


Trying to remember how it feels to have a heartbeat

by If I Could Fly_ (ifIcouldfly_hs)



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst, Canon Compliant, Canon Related, Cheating, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M, First Love, Fluff and Smut, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Internalized Homophobia, Larry Stylinson Is Real, Love/Hate, M/M, One Direction Hiatus, Pining, Post-Hiatus, Post-The X Factor Era, Slow Burn, Smut, The X Factor Bungalow, True Love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-01
Updated: 2020-01-02
Packaged: 2020-02-15 14:52:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 39,043
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18671899
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ifIcouldfly_hs/pseuds/If%20I%20Could%20Fly_
Summary: Louis and Harry were everything. From the second they met in the X Factor washroom, to being put together in One Direction, to touring the world together - they were each other's everything. They fell hard and fast, madly in love with each other but forced to to exist in a world that wasn't ready to accept their love. With the never-ending demands from Modest Management to Louis' relationship with Eleanor, Louis and Harry just weren't built to last.Now Harry is forced to deal with the fact that Louis and Eleanor are getting married while simultaneously dealing with One Direction finally coming back from hiatus. Everything feels like it's coming apart at the seams. But maybe (just maybe) this was the driving force they needed to finally work their shit out.ORThe one where Louis and Harry broke up int the midst of One Direction's fame, don't speak for a few years, and finally (finally) are forced to be in the same room as one another.ORThe one where there is A LOT of angst and pining until there isn't.





	1. Your Ghost

**Author's Note:**

> Okayyyyy, here we go! Three important things for you to know before you start to read this beast:
> 
> 1) I've NEVER written a canon-compliant story before, so please excuse any errors, made up bullshit, and other misuses of my creative license lol
> 
> 2) For this story, Made in the AM hasn't been written yet. The boys announced their hiatus at the end of the OTRA tour, but sang History (unreleased) at their X factor performance (last performance together before the hiatus)
> 
> 3) Due to the fact that Felicite's death is recent and a very sad tragedy, she will not be mentioned in this story. So, while this is as canon-compliant as possible, please respect my decision to not include her.

_It's like every time you vanish, somehow you're still here_  
_You never seem to manage just to disappear_  
_And everything I see comes crashing down on me_  
_But the ghost of you is always near_

(Your Ghost – Marianas Trench)

 

**_Present time (May 2019)_ **

Harry had been staring at the dusty rose envelope for almost an hour. It was just sitting there on his kitchen table, taunting him, _haunting him_. He’d started the morning like any other. He’d been awake by six, had ran his usual 5 km route before stopping by the shop he’d fallen in love with that made the best smoothies. He’d cleaned the house, called his mum, spoke to his manager. He’d collected the mail right after it had been delivered that morning, flipping through flyers and other junk mail until that damned envelope had caught his eye. He’d been staring at it ever since.

He wouldn’t have given it much of a second thought if it hadn’t been for that damn return address label in the top left corner. _Louis and Eleanor_.

It was half past ten in the morning and Harry wanted nothing more than to pour a glass of scotch and go back to bed.

Today was not a good day.

*

It was almost five o’clock that evening by the time he managed to get the nerve to open it. He’d forced himself out of the house for most of the day. He’d repeated his run, he’d gone to the shops for some groceries, he’d gone for a drive. He’d only really returned home because he needed to shower and change before his dinner plans with Nick, and that damn envelope had demanded all of his attention the second he was through the door. If he didn’t open it now, he was going to drive himself crazy for the rest of the night – or the rest of his life.

And no, Harry shouldn’t have opened it. He should have left well enough alone and tossed it right in the trash. But he’d never been able to leave well enough alone. He’d always been a masochist. Louis himself once told him he didn’t know how to stay away from trouble.

Harry took a deep breath as he stared down at the piece of cardstock he’d retrieved from the envelope. It was pretty, definitely not something Louis had picked out. There were too many flowers, too much pink for it to be something Louis would actually like. It had Eleanor written all over it. _Literally._

Harry read the same three words over and over again until he was fairly certain he was going to go blind. _Save the date! Save the date! Save the date!_

So, this was it then. Louis and Eleanor were finally getting married. On September 26, 2020 to be exact.

Good for them – right?

Harry was fucking ecstatic. He was also a fucking liar.  

*

“Ouch,” Nick winced when Harry told him about the Save the Date. They were sitting in the back of their favourite restaurant, some small Italian place Nick had introduced Harry to years ago, back when things weren’t so far out of control. “I guess I’m not getting invited.”

Harry rolled his eyes. Nick and Louis had never really been the best of friends. Even when they’d been much _much_ younger, Louis had hated how close Harry and Nick were. Harry could remember it like it was just yesterday, how Louis would stomp around, huffing on and on about how Nick was a bad influence, making Harry all hipster-like. Harry had laughed it off back then. He’d promised Louis that his new friends on Primrose Hill wouldn’t change him. Maybe that had been the beginning of the end.

“Seriously, though,” Nick said, pausing to take a sip from his glass of merlot. “Are you okay?”

Harry shrugged. “I’m fine,” it was a lie. It was _always_ a lie. “Don’t even know why they’d bother sending me one. It’s not like I’ve talked to him in the last two and a half years.”

“But I’m sure the rest of the guys will be invited. Had to invite you too to save face.”

Harry knew Nick was right. He knew the only reason he was being warned to save the date of Louis’ inevitable wedding was because Niall and Liam would most definitely be in attendance, and if they had any hope of keeping the image of One Direction alive Harry had to be there too. It was the same reason he’d been at Louis and Steve Aoki’s performance of _Just Hold On_ at the X Factor. Well, in reality, Harry had gone because he _needed_ to support the Tomlinson-Deakin family, but he’d also been demanded to attend by One Direction’s management. Even with the “hiatus”, the boys of One Direction were still somehow under Modest Management’s thumb. Harry would never be free.

“You gonna go?” Nick asked curiously.

Harry didn’t know the answer to that, he probably would never really know the answer to that. “I don’t know. I have a year and a half to figure it out. If I’m lucky he’ll knock up another girl and the wedding will get called off.”

Harry didn’t really wish that on Louis. He didn’t _really_ want Louis’ life to get turned upside down again. He just really, _really_ didn’t want this wedding to happen. He’d been praying this wedding wouldn’t happen for the last eight years. But apparently all of the praying, wishing, and hoping Harry had done had been pointless. The day would arrive soon enough (too soon for Harry’s liking), and he was just going to have to deal with it.

*

When Harry got home from dinner his eyes immediately zoned in on the 5x7 piece of cardstock that was still sitting on his kitchen table. He hated the thing. He wanted nothing more than for it to spontaneously burst into flames and burn until it was a mere pile of ash. Everything came rushing back the second he sat down with that damn Save the Date in his hands. Everything that had happened since that fateful day in the loo, the day his life changed forever – the day he met _him._

**_X Factor Bootcamp (July 2010)_ **

Harry knew it was urinal etiquette to not stand right next to another guy while he was having a wee, but the bathroom at the arena where they held the early stages of the X Factor didn’t exactly allow for him to follow such etiquette rules. So, he had no other choice but to whip himself out and pee while standing beside another guy doing the same. He couldn’t help it when his eyes shifted to the side, eyeing up the boy standing beside him (peeing beside him). He recognized him, of course he recognized him. Harry would be lying if he said he hadn’t noticed this particular person since auditioning for the X Factor in Manchester. He’d be lying if he said he hadn’t been sort of...ogling this individual.

“Oops!” Harry nearly shouted, his face immediately turning fifty shades of red as he let himself slip from his hand, splashing the other boy’s leg with his urine. _Please kill me, right now_ , Harry thought has he stared wide eyed at the brown-haired boy beside him. This was _not_ how this was supposed to go. This was _not_ how they were supposed to meet.

“Hi,” the other boy was smiling, even after Harry had splashed him with urine, he was _smiling_.

Harry looked away as they both simultaneously finished their business before walking to the sinks and washing their hands beside one another.

“So, Curly, do you make it a habit to splash people with your pee?”

Harry felt his face heat up even more, if that was even possible. “I’m _so_ sorry,” he apologized frantically. “I can’t believe that happened. I’m so, so, sorry.”

The other boy was laughing as if the whole thing was some silly thing. “Don’t worry ‘bout it, Curly. No harm done.”

But there was some ‘harm done’ because Harry was currently drowning in embarrassment. He’d _finally_ gotten the chance to speak to the guy he’d been drooling over for the past few weeks and he had to go and do something dreadful like _pee on him_.

Apparently said boy could tell that Harry was three seconds away from dying from embarrassment, because the next thing Harry knew he had a hand outstretched towards him and the bluest eyes he’d ever seen in his life smiling at him. “I’m Louis, by the way. Louis Tomlinson.”

Harry met Louis’ hand with his own, revelling in the fact that he was actually _touching_ said boy. He needed to get a grip, fast. “I’m Harry. Harry Styles.”

“Ooh, I can tell you’re gonna go far, Harry Styles,” Louis cooed. “You’ve got a name and a face that are made to be famous.”

And from that moment on, Harry was a goner for a boy named Louis.

**_Present time (May 2019)_ **

Harry shook himself from his thoughts, his memories. They didn’t haunt him nearly as much as they used to, but sometimes they jumped out at him from nowhere. Other times, something (like a damn piece of mail) would set his mind in motion, forcing him to relive every single painful (and beautiful) memory he had of those days.

His memories were both a blessing and a curse.

Harry sighed, carrying the Save the Date as he walked through his back-patio door and around the house until he was standing in front of the recycling bin. He couldn’t keep the thing in his house anymore. It was _his_ home, his safe place, and he didn’t need a constant reminder of everything he’d once had but didn’t anymore. He didn’t need to know when the date of Louis’ wedding was.

But even as he tossed the cardstock into the bin and closed the lid, Harry knew he’d remember that date no matter what. He knew that he’d be counting down the days to September 26, 2020 in his head, no matter what he did with that damn reminder. He could recycle it, burn it, or keep it on his refrigerator door. The day would forever be seared into his brain. There was no unseeing or unknowing. Harry could only do what he’d been doing for the past four years – acting like Louis Tomlinson had never existed in the first place.

~

Acting as if Louis Tomlinson had never existed proved futile when Harry got a call the next day from a worried Niall, who had also apparently received his Save the Date in the mail. Harry had tried to play it cool. He’d tried to wave the whole thing off like it was no big deal, but if anyone could see through Harry’s feigned nonchalance, it was Niall Horan.

“S’fine, Niall, really,” Harry spoke into the phone, trying to hide the annoyance that was threatening to rise up and escape through his voice. “It’s just a bloody wedding. It was bound to happen sometime.”

“H,” Niall sighed, obviously not buying into Harry’s words. “How ‘bout I come over? We can grill some steaks and have a few pints? It’s been ages since we’ve gotten together.”

Niall was right of course. It had been ages since they’d seen each other. They’d both been busy. Niall had been in Los Angeles, writing new music with the likes of Teddy Geiger and Shawn Mendes, while Harry had been off inducting Stevie Nicks into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame. They were both finally back in London, and maybe (for the first time ever) Niall was right. Maybe Harry needed to see his friend. Maybe Harry needed to get drunk and cry on Niall’s shoulder until he no longer cared about the inevitable Tomlinson-Calder nuptials.

“Come to mine around six?” Harry asked. He had to hold his cellphone inches away from his ear as Niall let out a scream of excitement. And well, Harry would be lying if he didn’t feel a bit relieved at the prospect of having Niall around. No one really knew Harry and Louis’ history the way Niall and Liam did. They’d lived it too, after all.

*

“I can’t believe Stevie Nicks said you were a member of NSYNC!” Niall and Harry were a few pints in, and Niall had his typical rosy cheeks from being just the right amount of tipsy.

Harry couldn’t deny the fact that dinner and beer with one of his best friends had been exactly what he’d needed. Even though Niall brought along every single memory with him, he was also one of Harry’s most favourite people on the planet. And Harry couldn’t walk away from that – he couldn’t let Louis Tomlinson do that to him. He couldn’t let Louis win, not after he’d already won every other hand they’d ever been dealt.

“Have you talked to him lately?” Harry had meant to respond to Niall’s comment about Stevie Nicks’ mess up at the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame induction ceremony, but somehow, his mind went somewhere else. His mind _always_ went somewhere else. He really needed to go to therapy. He needed to do _something_ to deal with all of his pent-up anger. Maybe boxing wasn’t doing it for him anymore.

Niall sat back on the sofa, beer in hand and an unreadable expression on his face. As a general rule, they typically avoided any topic related to their bandmate, but Harry couldn’t keep it in anymore. “I saw him when I was in LA last week,” he responded slowly and carefully, as if Harry was breakable – as if Harry would spontaneously combust from his words.

And really, Niall’s words shouldn’t have felt like a punch to Harry’s gut. He knew perfectly well that Niall (and Liam) was in regular contact with Louis. He knew that the guys were still the best of friends, regardless of all the shit that went down – regardless of the hiatus that had managed to go on a lot longer than they’d originally planned. “How is he?” He couldn’t help but ask. He couldn’t help but want to know how his once best friend (his once favourite person) was doing. Maybe, just maybe, he wanted to know that Louis was hurting too – that he was _still_ hurting too.

Niall paused for a moment, his eyes trained on the glass of beer in his hands. “He’s good,” he finally answered. “We just hung out, he had Freddie. That kid is growing up fast. He’s going to be kicking my arse in football in no time.”  
  
“Right,” Harry mumbled as he stood up from the sofa and made his way towards the kitchen, in desperate need of something stronger than the Carlsberg he’d been nursing for the past half an hour. He hated himself as he reached for a bottle of scotch and a fresh glass. The mere mention of a three-year-old shouldn’t make him run for the liquor cabinet. He was stronger than this – he _had_ to be stronger than this.

“H,” Niall’s voice filled the emptiness of Harry’s kitchen, bouncing off the walls and piercing Harry’s sullenness. “I’m sorry, H,” Niall continued as he came to stand beside Harry, placing a strong hand on his shoulder. “I went too far. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have mentioned...”

“It’s okay, Niall,” Harry sighed as he sipped at his new drink, forcing himself not to down it all in one gulp. “I’m happy he’s doing well. I’m happy he’s happy.” The words were bitter in Harry’s mouth, but he _needed_ to say them. Maybe if he said them enough times, they’d become the truth. Harry had tricked himself into happiness (contentment? Mild okay-ness?) before, he could do it again. Couldn’t he?

“You know, Liam and I were talking the other day...” Niall trailed off, almost as if he was too scared to finish his sentence.

Harry knew what was coming, he _knew_ what Liam and Niall talked about when they managed to get together just the two of them. They were the only ones who ever talked about it. Harry wasn’t ready yet – he didn’t know if he’d ever be ready. He knew he was the only one holding them back. Well, maybe that wasn’t really the case. Maybe Louis was holding them back a little bit too.

“Not today, Niall, please,” Harry begged. “I can’t talk about this, not right now. Not after getting that...that thing,” he groaned, referencing the envelope with that damn return address that was currently sitting in the bottom of his recycling bin. “I can only handle so much.”

“I’m sorry,” Niall said again as he wrapped his arms around Harry, pulling him tight against him. “He asks about you too, you know. I think that means he misses you, H. You were best mates, above all else. You were each other’s _person_.”

Until Louis left him high and dry. Until Louis woke up one morning and decided he didn’t love Harry anymore, or that their love wasn’t enough anymore. Whatever Louis’ reason had been back then, it had driven them apart. It had ended everything they’d ever been all at once. Harry had lost so much more than just a relationship. He’d lost his best friend, his soulmate, _himself._

*

Harry was well past tipsy by the time Niall called an Uber and left him alone in his empty house again. He’d had far too much scotch, but he hadn’t been able to stop, not with Niall’s words bouncing around in his head. _He asks about you too. You were best mates. You were each other’s person._ They played over and over again as Harry brushed his teeth and crawled into bed. They played over and over again as his head hit the pillow and he closed his eyes, quickly succumbing to a drunken, disturbed sleep. Nights like this one were guaranteed to be haunted by Louis’ face in his dreams. Nights like these were the reason Harry didn’t drink much anymore. Drinking always equalled memory-filled dreams – memory-filled _nightmares._

**_X Factor Bootcamp (August 2010)_ **

Harry had two weeks with Louis and the boys – two weeks in his dad’s house just the five of them. It was meant to be a bonding experience, a time for the boys to get to know each other now that they’d been thrown in a band together. But Harry saw it for the opportunity it really was – quality time with Louis (and the other boys of course).

Harry’s brain liked to relive the exact moment they’d been put together as a group. For the past couple of weeks, since Simon Cowell had announced the whole idea, Harry had been practically glowing. Yes, he was excited he was getting a second chance at the X Factor, but mostly it was because the biggest crush he’d ever had had jumped into his arms when they’d gotten the news. Louis had clung to him like their lives depended on it, legs and arms wrapped around him as if he was a damn koala bear. Harry had loved every second of it.

Now, the five of them were sitting around Des’ house. He’d given them the house for the two weeks, stocked full of groceries and with the promise that he wouldn’t return until their two weeks of privacy were up. Harry hadn’t spent a whole lot of time with Des in his life time, but god did he love him right now. The promise of two weeks alone with Louis (minus the three seventeen-year-olds who were currently cramping his style) was everything Harry had ever wanted. He was bound and determined to make the most of the two weeks.

The only things standing in Harry’s way were his own awkward shyness and his inability to actually get a good read on Louis. They’d become instant best mates, but Harry couldn’t tell where friendliness ended and potential flirtation began. Louis was touchier with him than the others, always in some sort of physical contact with Harry, but Louis carried himself with such an air of confidence and certainty that Harry couldn’t gauge whether or not it was because Louis fancied him, or if it was because they were simply mates. Louis was an enigma, and Harry was no Nancy Drew.

It was the second night of their two week stay when Harry heard his bedroom door creak open at half past midnight. He’d been on the brink of sleep, just about to doze off and dream about all of the things he wanted to do with Louis (to Louis), but the sound of footsteps on the old hardwood floor forced him into alertness. There were only four possibilities of who could currently be sneaking into his room, and his heart was racing with the hope it would be who he really, _really_ wanted it to be.

“Psst,” and yes, Harry knew that voice immediately. Only Louis would kneel down beside his bed and poke his cheek. _Only Louis._ “Are you awake?”  
  
Harry didn’t respond right away, but he was absolutely positive that Louis could feel his face break into a wide smile. How could he possibly be so smitten with this boy? They barely even knew each other for crying out loud.

“Psst,” Louis buzzed again, his lips practically right on Harry’s ear. “I know you’re awake, Curly. I can feel your obnoxious dimple.”

Harry could stay like this forever, with Louis’ mouth hot on his ear and his finger pressed into his dimple, but he was also insanely curious as to why Louis was creeping into his room an hour after they’d all said goodnight and went their separate ways. “I’m awake now,” he grumbled, more for effect than anything else. He definitely wasn’t unhappy that Louis was currently kneeling beside his bed and prodding him awake. Not unhappy about it in the slightest.

“I can’t sleep,” Louis whined. And Harry knew Louis well enough now to know that if Louis couldn’t sleep, that meant he couldn’t sleep either. Louis had a way about him, and Harry would always, _always_ do his bidding. “Wanna go for a soak with me?”

And well, Harry would be lying if he said that didn’t pique his interest. He perched himself up on his elbows just then, letting his eyes adjust to the darkness until he could make out the outline of Louis’ face. “Hmm?”

“There’s that giant hot tub just going to waste out there,” Louis explained, his words laced with dramatics as per his usual dramatic self. “Come out with me. The stars are amazing.”

And well, Harry was sixteen, easy to influence, and absolutely positively infatuated with the boy kneeling beside his bed. He was _not_ about to say no to that request. “Let me change. I’ll meet you out there.”

“Pfft,” Louis scoffed, waving his hand as he grabbed Harry’s with his other and hauled him out of bed. “Just go in your knickers like me.”

Louis Tomlinson was going to be the death of him. Harry wanted to call up his mum and tell her right then and there to make sure his epitaph read _“Harry Styles. February 1 st, 1994 – July 23, 2010. Died of a heart attack after Louis Tomlinson asked him to join him in the hot tub in only his underwear.”_But he also didn’t think his mum would appreciate such a late phone call, or Harry’s inability to gauge what was considered too much information. 

“C’mon, Curly!” Louis whisper-yelled with impatience. “Time is of the essence, young man! My back is killing me. Lead me to the jets!”

Harry laughed, trying his best to keep his voice down as not to wake the others, as they tiptoed out the back door and around to where the covered hot tub sat in the backyard. He busied himself, opening up the cover and turning on the jets, as Louis insisted on standing back and watching Harry do all the work. Not that Harry minded, not really. He was already used to Louis’ hands-off approach to pretty much everything.

Harry was the first one in the water. He slunk into one of the corner seats, letting the hot water at the jets pulsate around him. It really was a beautiful night, and he let his head tilt back as he stared up at the bright stars. He didn’t even peel his eyes away from the sky as he heard Louis step into the hot tub. He didn’t even peel his eyes away from the stars as he felt Louis take the seat _right beside him_ , their bodies perfectly aligned side by side. It took all of Harry’s strength to keep his head tilted back and his eyes on the sky. It took all of his strength not to play it cool, pretend to yawn, and slink an arm around Louis’ shoulder. Harry didn’t need any more reasons to be embarrassed of himself. Besides, Louis’ decision to sit right beside him didn’t mean anything. Maybe Louis was just cold and wanted to soak up Harry’s body heat on top of the heat rolling off the water.

“The other guys didn’t want to come out?” Harry asked lightly, hoping – praying – his voice didn’t give him or his stupid crush away.

Louis shrugged, turning his head to look right at him. “Didn’t invite them.”

Harry wanted to take that as a sign. He wanted to assume that Louis had only invited him out for a midnight soak in the hot tub because he wanted to be alone with him. But as much as Harry tended to be a hopeless romantic, he also knew that it was unrealistic of him to assume that Louis wanted anything more than to be Harry’s _friend._ It was normal for friends to have a midnight soak in just their briefs, wasn’t it? Just because Louis was sitting right there, right against Harry’s side, didn’t mean anything, right? Harry had to be realistic, because if he wasn’t, he was bound to be crushed.

“Why not?” the question sat between them, hanging in the thick tension that seemed to be swirling around them. Harry was also 100% positive he was making all the tension up in his head. He had a tendency to go a bit overboard.

Louis chuckled then, and Harry couldn’t help the way his heart deflated. “You’re really quite daft sometimes, Curly.” _Great_ , now the older boy was making fun of him. Was his crush really that obvious?

“Uh, what?” Harry was more than daft. Harry _knew_ he was much more than daft.

Louis just shook his head, a smile still pulling at his lips. “D’you think I just hang around you all the time because I think you’re cool? I mean, c’mon Hazza. You’re not _that_ cool.”

Harry was a million kinds of confused now, his head trying to decipher what each of Louis’ words really meant.

“Seriously?” Louis tilted his head, studying Harry. “You still don’t get it, d’you?”  
  
Harry knew he was blushing now. He couldn’t keep looking at Louis looking at him – all he could do was duck his head in embarrassment and stare into the steaming water that encompassed them.

Louis didn’t say anything more, he just let Harry sit in his shame. Harry about to get up and trudge back to his room, maybe cry under the duvet until he no longer felt the pang of embarrassment that was currently stabbing through his chest, but he didn’t have the chance to move. He didn’t have the chance to do _anything_ before a pair of hands were grabbing onto either side of his face and pulling him in.

Harry had been kissed before, more than once, but he’d never felt like _this._ He’d never felt like his heart could explode just from the feeling of someone’s lips move against his own. That kiss confirmed everything for Harry. That kiss was the nail in the coffin. Harry Styles was completely and utterly done for when it came to Louis Tomlinson.

**_Present Time (May 2019)_ **

Harry woke up with a jolt, sitting upright in his bed and gasping for breath. He hadn’t dreamt about that particular night at his father’s bungalow in ages – in forever really – and it was haunting. He could practically still feel the ghost of Louis’ lips on his own. He could practically still smell the chorine from the hot tub. That had been one of the best nights of his life. Learning that Louis felt the exact same thing for him as he’d felt for Louis back in those X Factor days had sent Harry to cloud nine. But now he was left feeling numb. Now he was left feeling like it had all been a lie.

He didn’t realize he’d slept through his alarm until he reached for his phone, the time reading as half past nine. He never slept in anymore. He always ensured he was up and ready for his early morning run. But the dream had seemed to refuse to release its grasp on Harry’s rem sleep, and he was left feeling groggy and like he hadn’t really slept at all.

He clicked through his notifications until he landed on his email. It wasn’t uncommon for him to get an email from Modest, but it was uncommon for the subject to read: **URGENT: Mandatory Meeting Scheduled for May 24, 2019.** Harry had been (somewhat) out of the grasps of Modest’s stronghold for a couple of years, but he technically still had an obligation when it came to One Direction – which meant he didn’t really have a choice but to ask how high when they told him to jump.

He clicked on the email’s subject, which brought him to the entire email. He immediately regretted it. He should have stayed asleep. He should have dreamt about the entire timeline of his and Louis’ relationship. It would have hurt less than how much it hurt to read the words in the email.

_Harry Styles,_

_We require your attendance at a mandatory meeting that has been scheduled for next Friday – May 24 th. You should come prepared to discuss the future of One Direction and the end of the hiatus. The paperwork signed at the time of the hiatus included an agreement that One Direction would record and tour one more record, no earlier than eighteen months after the beginning of the hiatus. This time frame has been extended due to time restrictions and special circumstances; however, we are now requiring that the members of Modest Management and One Direction come together to create a timeline and agreement for the next record. _

_The meeting will be held at our head office at 91 Peterborough Road at 10:00 am. If you have any questions, please respond directly to this email._

_Kindly,_

_Modest Management_

Harry struggled to get through the entire email. He struggled to breathe as he read the words “ _we are now requiring that the members of Modest Management and One Direction come together”_ over and over again. He knew he didn’t have a choice. He’d put this off for too long. He knew that he was the main reason the “time frame” had been extended more than once. He knew that his and Louis’ past was the “special circumstance”. He knew that if he called Simon Cowell up and told him he couldn’t make the meeting that he’d be going against a contract he’d signed in 2015 and would probably be sued for everything he was worth.

Which meant Harry only really had one choice: to show up at this damn meeting and see _him._ Harry was also pretty damn sure his lungs were about to collapse. He couldn’t do this.


	2. Glimmer

_Can we forgive and forget?  
_ _Can we forgive and forget?  
_ _Can we forgive and forget?  
_ _And can we lay it to rest?_

(Glimmer – Marianas Trench) 

**_Modest Management Office (August 2010)_ **

Harry’s knee was bouncing incessantly. He couldn’t help it. He was currently sat at one of those large round business meeting tables, and regardless of the fact that the other boys were there too, Harry could only focus on the men and women in the suits with the serious looks on their faces. He knew what this was about. He _knew_ that Liam, Niall, and Zayn didn’t really need to be here. This meeting had been called because of Harry and Louis – this meeting was a witch hunt.

 _Or,_ Harry was being overdramatic, and everything was going to be okay. The execs would just smile and give them their blessings. No harm, no foul.

“Do you know why we called this meeting?” Simon asked from his large leather chair, his face unreadable and yet smug all at the same time.

“I know why I’m here,” Harry was surprised to hear his own voice fill the room. He hadn’t really thought about how he was going to approach this meeting. He’d imagined he’d be quiet and timid. But it was obvious from the way Louis was slouched in his chair, picking incessantly at this own fingernail, that Harry had to be the one to speak up. “I just don’t know why everyone else has to be here. This has nothing to do with them.”

He wanted to save his band mates, his _brothers,_ from what he knew was going to be a lengthy and agonizing lecture from Simon and the rest of the management team. They didn’t all need to suffer, especially when Liam, Niall, and Zayn weren’t a part of this, not really, not in a way that truly mattered. 

“ _Everyone_ is here,” Simon started, his hands clasped together on top of the mahogany table. “Because I need to make, we’re all on the same page here. I need to make sure each and every one of you understands what needs to happen for you to be successful.”

Harry knew exactly what that meant. He knew what Simon was saying – he could read in between the lines. What they _needed_ to do to be successful was ensure that they all remained in professional relationships, and Harry and Louis hadn’t exactly spent the last couple of weeks as coworkers, or even friends for that matter. They were much, _much_ more.

Harry had expected Louis to throw a fit, to become enraged, to _fight._ But Louis stayed slouched in his chair, eyes staring off in the distance. He didn’t even try to look at Harry from across the table. He didn’t even try to convey any sort of secret message between them. He was a stone, and Harry felt betrayed.

In the end, it had been Liam and Niall who fought for Harry and Louis. It was Liam and Niall who got increasingly angrier as the meeting went on, going as far as almost yelling at Simon and the rest of the execs. Harry had tried to fight, he’d tried to stand up for himself (for _them_ ), but he couldn’t stop staring at Louis. He couldn’t stop watching Louis ignore everything that was going on around them.

*  
Harry didn’t get the chance to talk to Louis after the meeting. Louis practically ran off, taking the stairs down the eleven floors to the main lobby of the Modest offices, while Harry crammed himself in the elevator with the other boys. When Harry made it back to the X Factor house, Louis wasn’t there. He waited. He waited for _hours._ As the day and night dragged on and Louis _still_ wasn’t home, Niall and Liam had tried to get him to go to bed, to close his eyes and forget about everything. But Harry refused. He sat on the front steps; his eyes fixated on the stars as he waited for Louis to come home – to come back to him. He waited until it was nearing one in the morning and a taxi pulled up into the carpark, an exhausted Louis stumbling out of the back-passenger door.

“Haz?” Louis’ voice filled the night air, slightly muted by the taxi’s engine as it backed out of the drive and sped down the street.

Harry could smell the beer seeping through Louis’ pores as he climbed the stairs and sat beside him. Harry wanted nothing more than for Louis to reach out and wrap his arms around him, but he kept his hands to himself, placing each palm on his bent knees.

“Why are you out here?” Louis asked tentatively, as if he already knew the answer. _He should know the answer_.

“I was waiting for you,” he felt stupid as the words left his mouth. It had only been two weeks since their little vacation at Des’ house. It had only been two weeks of them doing whatever it was that they were doing. They hadn’t talked about it, not really. They hadn’t so much as discussed, their feelings. But they were inseparable. They hadn’t slept in separate beds since the first night in the hot tub. They hadn’t gone a single day without touching each other, without kissing each other. It was all still fairly innocent, but Harry had thought that they were headed in the direction of something a little more serious, of something a little more...intimate.

Maybe he’d read all of the signs wrong. Maybe Louis had just wanted a snog session buddy. Maybe where Harry was falling head over heels, Louis was just having fun.

The second the fans had started suspecting something going on and trashy magazines had started to run stories about _Larry Stylinson,_ management had called the meeting. Harry had known what they were going to walk into that morning, but maybe Louis had been clueless. Maybe Louis didn’t really understand what the big deal was, since they were just friends after all.

“I should’ve said something today,” Louis said suddenly, his voice earnest – genuine. He rested his head on his arm, turning to look up at Harry’s ever green eyes. “I should’ve told Simon off. I should’ve...fuck, Haz...”

“I think I’m falling for you,” Harry whispered, the words leaving his mouth in slow and careful syllables. “I think I’m falling for you, and I’m afraid...I’m afraid this is just a fun time for you.”

Louis fell apart right then, a tear and a gasp escaping simultaneously as he moved to quickly wrap his arms around Harry. He held Harry tightly against him, one of his hands moving to run through Harry’s curls. “Never,” he said, voice strong, as he pulled back, only to place a hand on either side of Harry’s face. He bore into Harry’s eyes with his own. “Never, do you hear me?” he waited for Harry to nod his head before he continued. “I...this is new to me, I’ve never, I didn’t really know I could be into lads until I met you but...this is real, okay?”

Harry grasped desperately at every single word that left Louis’ mouth, and he held them close to his heart, believing in them the way some people believed in God. He didn’t have a reason not to...not yet, anyways.

**_Present Time (May 24 th, 2019)_ **

Harry tried to shake the memory from his thoughts, his hands gripping the steering wheel until his knuckles turned white. He couldn’t help it, not really. How could he _not_ think about that day, that first meeting that was called because of his and Louis’ relationship, when he was currently driving towards that very same office? How was he not supposed to think about _him_ when he hadn’t seen him in two and half years, but he was about to be in the same room as him, was about to be forced to make small talk about that damn Save the Date?

Harry had wanted nothing more than to sleep through the day, to miss the meeting, to maybe get sued for millions of dollars. He’d wanted nothing more than to escape this life and pretend like he’d never been a part of One Direction, like he’d never been a part of Larry Stylinson. Because the other option, the one where he went to the Modest Management office and saw Louis, _talked to Louis_ , it was just too damn painful.

But there he was, pulling his car into the carpark, because no matter how hard he’d tried to sleep through the day and act like everything was normal, he hadn’t been able to sleep at all. And really, he owed it to the fans, didn’t he? He _had_ to do this, no matter the personal costs.

He parked beside a white Mercedes coupe, and he couldn’t help but appreciate the fact that at least someone in this forsaken building had good taste in cars.

He tried to even his breathing as he entered the main lobby, but as he entered the elevator and pressed the button for the eleventh floor, Harry was almost certain he was going to have a panic attack. He’d been in this very elevator so many times he’d lost count, and he knew what was in store for him. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d left the Modest office actually happy. Actually, come to think of it, it was probably when they’d signed the papers for the hiatus. He’d been happy that day. He’d been free.

The elevator door opened too soon, way before Harry was actually ready to step out onto the eleventh floor and towards the open door to the boardroom, where he was supposed to meet everyone. He wasn’t ready. He’d never be ready.

It was now or never.

“Harry!” Liam was standing in the doorway of the boardroom, smiling as Harry made his way down the hall. _He could do this_. He could sit in a room with the guys he’d once considered to be his very best friends in the whole world.

“How are ya?” Liam asked as he met Harry half way down the hall, instantly wrapping his muscular arms around him. Harry hadn’t seen Liam in a few months, not since they’d both managed to be in London at the same time and had met up for lunch. Harry had a way of dodging everyone, something he knew he needed to change. He couldn’t keep neglecting the people he loved just because _he_ had broken him. Harry had put himself back together over the last few years. It was time he proved just how strong he was.

“Good,” Harry’s voice was quiet, too quiet for someone who was determined not to crumble. “Good,” he repeated stronger, more certain.

Liam pulled away, a careful smile on his face as he met Harry’s eyes. “He’s here already,” he whispered, careful not to let his voice travel down the hall and into the boardroom where _he_ was already sitting at the big, round table.

Harry nodded, understanding perfectly well just who Liam was talking about. “Alright,” he straightened his back, if he was going to walk in there and face him, he may as well do it with a hint of dignity.

“Is this...are you...” Liam struggled to form whatever question he was trying to ask, but Harry knew what he meant even without the actual words. _No,_ Harry was not okay, but _no_ , he was not going to make a scene. One Direction would reunite without a single tear being shed or drop of blood being spilled. Everything was peachy.

“Come on, Li,” Harry sighed as he led them down the hall and towards the foreboding boardroom door. “Let’s go get the band back together.”

Liam wrapped an arm around Harry’s shoulders as they walked together. He could do this. He _had_ to do this. He’d walk right into that room, look him right in the eyes and _smile_. He’d be cordial and pleasant and maybe just a little bit aloof to the whole upcoming wedding. He’d be strong. He _had_ to be strong.

Every word Harry had used to pump himself up vanished the second he stepped into the boardroom. Every reminder that he could do this, that he could be strong, was forgotten as his eyes scanned past Simon, two other execs, and Niall until they found _him_. It felt like forever since he’d seen him, really seen him, and Harry wanted nothing more than to not even give him a second thought, but he couldn’t look away. His eyes were glued to Louis’, the stubble on his face, the way his hair was falling into his eyes – the way he was looking right back at Harry.

Harry couldn’t do this.

“H! I saved you a seat, come give me a hug ya cunt!” Harry was shaken from the staring contest by none other than Niall, who was sitting on the opposite side of the table as Louis, an empty seat right beside him and a welcoming smile on his face. It had only been a little over a week since they’d seen each other, but Harry had never been happier to see his Irish friend. Niall could make every ounce of anxiety that threatened to ravage Harry’s body disappear in a single smile. Niall was magic.

“It’s great to see you, Harry,” Simon said from his chair at the head of the table, a familiar and unnerving smile on his face. Harry had hoped he’d never see this man again, but here he was, sitting the same room he’d sat in at only sixteen years old when the very same man had told him he wasn’t allowed to love the person he loved most.

Harry smiled tightly in response before his eyes wandered back to where Louis was sitting beside Liam. Louis was staring intently at the iPhone in his hands, his thumbs moving quickly as they typed a message. Harry could only assume he was texting Eleanor, his future _wife_ , and the thought made him want to vomit. How was it that he was still here, sitting in Modest’s office, killing himself slowly thinking about Louis and Eleanor? It was as if no time had passed at all. It was as if they were still practically kids, letting adults dictate their lives for them. The thought made Harry sick, much sicker than he’d already felt.

“Can we just dive right in?” Liam spoke first, looking around the table at his three bandmates and the three representatives from Modest. “I have to pick up my son at noon.”

Everything felt so similar, yet so different at the same time. Here they were, One Direction, four years since the hiatus, and two of them had children. Harry couldn’t wrap his head around it, didn’t even want to _think_ about it.

“Right,” Simon said with a nod. “Let’s get to it. We’ve decided it’s time to end the hiatus, for you to honour the contract and record the last album. Of course, you also agreed to a final international tour that will simultaneously act as a farewell tour and a tour for the final album. And as per the contract we all signed four years ago, the tour will last no longer than eight months.”

Harry already felt a heavy weight in his chest. He’d toured as a solo artist, and while it had been a long tour, it hadn’t felt nearly as grueling or demanding as the tours he’d done with One Direction. He’d had more control, had been able to schedule extended breaks. He’d been able to see his family more often than any tour he’d ever been on with the band. He knew what this final tour would be like; he _knew_ that management would push them well past their physical and emotional limits. He also knew he didn’t have a choice.

He was anxious – scared even. But there was a part of him, a small part that felt like a spark of kindling, that was excited. He’d missed it. He’d missed touring with his friends, with the guys he’d practically grown up with. He could do this. He could make the most of it. He could _try_.

“So,” Harry tuned back into Simon’s voice. “We called this meeting today so we can agree on a timeline. We are hoping that you’ll all be in agreement with what we have come up with.”

And here it was, Modest already calling the shots – Modest already making the plans and determining the schedule.

“We were hoping to have the album out before the end of the year,” Simon continued.

“Impossible,” Louis scoffed, and Harry’s entire body tensed at the sound of his voice. “We can’t agree to that. We need to do this right, and we can’t write an entire album and record it in so little time. It’ll be complete shit.”

“Louis’ right,” Harry chimed in, not even noticing he was really speaking until all eyes were on him. He hadn’t meant to talk – he definitely hadn’t mean to agree with _him_ , but Louis _was_ right. And if Harry was going to do this – if he was going to spend an infinite amount of time with Louis, then he wanted to make sure something good came out of it. The fans deserved the best album ever. “This has to be an amazing album, the fans deserve it after waiting so long. We need more time. Six months isn’t enough.”

Simon looked back and forth between the two other men in the room, as if they were having a silent, telepathic conversation. “Alright. We expected as much. So, we are willing to agree to the record being released as late as February 1st, 2020.”

“When would the tour be?” Niall asked.

“Well, promo for the album would start right after the release of the first single. If we have a release date for the album as February 1st, the first single should be released mid-January. The tour would then start end of February and run until the end of October,” Simon informed them, as if everything was already planned. “Can we all agree to that?”

The room was silent for a long time as each member thought over the proposition. Harry knew they didn’t really have much room for negotiation. He knew that either way they’d be committing the next year and a half to the album and tour. He’d known this day would come. He’d been waiting for the email, really. It was pointless to try to push back, to try to hold them off for another couple of years. He’d already cashed in all of the time he had – he’d already asked everyone to wait for him more than once. He couldn’t be the one to hold them back anymore.

“I have one condition,” Louis finally broke the silence. “I need there to be more time in between the legs of the tour than the last tours. I need time to visit my family.”

 _Family_. Harry knew what that meant. Louis needed time to see his son. Louis was a father and Harry was still single and lonely. It was startling just how fast the night changes.

“Alright, we can work that in to the schedule,” Simon agreed. “So, if everyone is in agreement, I’ll have the office draw up contracts and we will send them to each of you.”

“One more thing,” Harry said, sitting up straighter in his chair as he met Simon’s eyes. “ _We_ write the music. Every song on the album is approved by the four of us, _no one else._ We want complete creative control.”

“Harry,” Simon cooed in the condescending voice they’d all grown accustomed to. “Now, you can see how that’s just impossible. Yes, you can write the music. But we can’t let you release an album we haven’t approved. That’s just not how this industry works.”

“You seem to forget that we’ve all had successful solo careers,” Louis interjected, quick to come to Harry’s defense. “We _know_ how this industry works, Simon. And you know that we would never release a shit album. You can listen to it before it’s released. You can be a part of deciding which song becomes the first single. But you will not have any control over what songs are on that album. I think that’s fair.”

Harry was surprised at how easily Simon bent to their will, at how easily he agreed to their conditions. Before he knew it, they were walking out of the office with a promise that the contracts would be sent over in the next couple of days. All they had to do was start writing an album, which meant they had to start working together again. Which meant that Harry had to work with _him_ again.

“We should all get together tonight, yeah?” Niall was the first to speak once they were all in the elevator, making their way back down to the lobby. “You can come to mine and we can have a barbeque and some beer. We need to properly catch up before we start writing music together again.”

Harry listened silently as Liam and Louis agreed with Niall’s plans. He couldn’t do this. He couldn’t just jump back in like nothing had happened, like they hadn’t spent the last four years apart. Nothing was the same. Nothing would ever be the same again.

“H? What do you say?”

Harry was about to decline the invitation. He was just about to spit out some excuse about already having dinner plans with Gemma, but then he caught Niall’s eye. He could see the hope, the sincere desire to have the four of them together again – to have the four of them be _friends_ again. “Sounds like a plan.”

He didn’t look back after they agreed on a time to meet at Niall’s and went off in their different directions in the carpark. He didn’t even realize that _he_ was walking behind him until he got to his Audi and heard the Mercedes next to him unlock. He looked over at the car to find Louis standing at the driver’s door, his head turned to Harry’s direction.

Of course, the car he’d been admiring when he got here belonged to Louis. Of course, out of every parking spot he had to pick the spot next to Louis’ car. He always ended up next to Louis, even when it wasn’t where he wanted to be.

“Nice car,” Harry mumbled in Louis’ direction as he opened the door and climbed into his car, starting the engine and pulling out of the parking spot before Louis even got the chance to formulate a response. It had been two and a half years since they’d spoken to each other, and the first words Harry had said to Louis were _“nice car”._ He deserved a pat on the fucking back.

*

It took all of Harry’s willpower to actually make it to Niall’s house that night. He’d talked himself out of it countless times, coming up with excuse after excuse of why he couldn’t go. He’d almost gone as far as to almost text Niall with some sad story about a sudden sore throat, but he’d managed to stop himself. It didn’t matter how long he managed to avoid this get together, he’d have to endure it someday – someday soon.

Harry found himself parked in Niall’s drive, right behind a white Mercedes coupe. Right behind _him._ He could make out a shadow in the car, even when he was still sat in his own. Louis was sitting in the driver’s seat. Maybe he was going through the same thing Harry was going through. Maybe he was panicking too. Maybe he was just as scared as Harry was. Maybe Harry should just put his car in reverse and back the fuck out of Niall’s drive and go home and hide under his duvet.

He was about to do just that when the door to the Mercedes in front of him opened and Louis stepped out of the car. Harry wanted to dive, hide behind his steering wheel, do _something_ to protect himself from Louis’ glance, but he was glued to his seat. He just sat there as Louis closed the driver’s door and turned to stare at Harry, his eyes careful and calculated. They didn’t know how to _be_ around each other anymore, and it felt strange and oddly depressing. They’d once been best friends, inseparable, two peas in a fucking pod. And now? Now, they couldn’t even exist on the same planet anymore without Harry wanting to spontaneously combust.

“Hi,” Louis greeted him the second Harry was stepping out of his own vehicle, barely even steady on the ground (not nearly steady enough to deal with Louis’ voice actually being directed towards him).

Harry couldn’t speak. It felt like his mouth was full of cotton balls, completely preventing him from moving his tongue and forming words. He couldn’t do this.

_He had to do this._

“Hi,” he finally managed to spit out the words, barely audible and sour on his tongue.

They stood there, both still beside their own cars, staring at each other for what felt like hours. Harry couldn’t look away. He wanted nothing more than to peel his eyes away from Louis’ and move towards the house, but his feet were rooted to the ground, as if he was a tree that had started barreling its roots into the dirt. He’d stay here until the day he died.

“Look, H,” Louis started, his tongue twisting on the single letter nickname they’d all grown used to using for Harry. “Harry, maybe we should talk? Like, just the two of us? We could get together tomorrow for a cuppa or something and just...”

“No,” Harry cut him off before he could continue. “I’m not interested, but thanks.”

Louis rolled his eyes at Harry’s petulance. Harry prided himself on being a mature twenty-five- year-old, but he refused to let his maturity give in and surrender to Louis Tomlinson’s antics. “Harry, c’mon.”

Harry shook his head again, more firmly and final. “We don’t need to do this bit,” he explained as he started walking up the drive, only pausing once he’d made it to Niall’s front steps. He turned back to look at Louis, who was still standing beside his Mercedes. “We don’t need to ‘hash things out’ or ‘get closure’ or any of that shite, okay? I have nothing to say to you.”

Louis’ jaw fell open slightly, as if shocked by this newly brave and confident Harry. Louis had always been the more outspoken one, the one who had the words and the wit. But Harry wouldn’t let him win this time. He wouldn’t let Louis take away his voice.

“We’re going to be spending a lot of time together,” Louis tried to reason. “I’m just trying to make this easier for the both of us.”

Harry laughed at that, but his laughter was laced with sarcasm and annoyance. “I’m a professional, Louis. I can be civil with you while we’re working. No need to try for anything more than that.”

Harry didn’t wait for Louis to say anything more, didn’t even give him a chance, as he turned the knob to Niall’s front door and stepped into the house, leaving a stunned Louis alone in the drive.

*

Time passed in a haze. Harry sat in Niall’s backyard, lounging back on a patio chair. It was a nice evening, as if Spring was actually threatening to _finally_ show its face. He was trying to enjoy himself. He was trying to let all of the anger and resentment go – he was trying to relax – but he couldn’t, not with Louis standing only a few feet away tending to the barbeque with Niall.

“How’s Bear?” Harry turned his attention to Liam, who was sitting at the patio table with him, pint in hand.

Liam’s face broke into a large smile, his pride for his son emanating from every pore. “Amazing. He’s in the whole terrible two’s phase right now,” he laughed. “He was at mine this afternoon and I left the room for a wee, like literally two minutes, and when I got back, he had the entire kitchen floor covered in flour.”

Harry laughed along at Liam’s story, finding himself equally jealous and thankful that he didn’t have to deal with a toddler. He’d always wanted kids – had always thought he’d grow up and have a big family. But he’d always thought he’d be taking that step, starting that journey, with Louis. And then Louis had gone off and gotten a girl pregnant, and well, Harry’s entire life had sort of blown up right in front of him.

As it turned out, the world had kept spinning and life had gone on. But Harry wasn’t sure about the whole children thing anymore. He wasn’t sure about _anything_ anymore.

“Burgers are up!” Niall announced as he made his way to the table with Louis towing behind, plate of hamburgers in hand.

Louis was silent as he placed the platter of burgers in the middle of the table and sat down at the one spare chair, of course it had to be next to Harry. Harry tried not to watch him. He tried to mind his own business and dress his burger and eat in silence. But Louis was a magnet. He’d always drawn Harry right in, even when he hated him more than anything else in the world.

“I’ve gotta say,” Niall started as he set down his beer. “I’m damn excited to get back in the studio with you lads. It’s been way too long.”

They all hummed in agreement, but even as Harry nodded his head and tried to distract himself with his food, he could feel Louis’ eyes on him. He was watching him, as if he expected Harry to disagree with Niall’s excitement, as if he expected Harry to flip the table over and storm out. But Harry was past that; he’d grown up and learned how to deal with his anger in more productive ways. He’d just hit up the gym after this ridiculous attempt at a get together. He’d take all of his pent-up anger and resentment that he saved specifically for Louis Tomlinson out on the punching bag.

“So, if we’re going to be on tour until possibly end of October next year, how is that going to effect the wedding?” Harry had tuned out most of the conversation until now, until Liam was asking a question that he definitely wanted to know the answer to.

Louis shrugged, almost as if he hadn’t really thought of it. Leave it to Louis to be nonchalant about his own goddamn wedding. “Not sure, really. Eleanor and I will figure it out. Worst case it gets moved I guess.”

 _Worst case his wedding gets rescheduled._ Harry couldn’t begin to imagine how Eleanor would feel about that statement. Eleanor with all of her plans and dreams for a big, lavish wedding. Eleanor would never let the wedding get pushed back. She’d storm Simon’s office and demand that the tour be scheduled around the wedding. She’d always been better at standing up for what she wanted than Louis or Harry had ever been. Harry supposed that’s why she’d won in the end.

*

They found themselves sat around Niall’s living room, pushed inside from the cool night air. Harry was surviving. He couldn’t deny that it was nice to see his old bandmates, and he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t excited about starting to write the new album. But it was _a lot_. Louis was sitting across the room from him, perched on a grey chaise lounge, cracking joke after joke. It almost felt like they were kids again, just starting out, not really aware of how their careers and their fame would ruin everything they had. It was a lot, and Harry’s heart was tired.

He felt his phone vibrate in his jeans, waking him from his reverie. He fished it out, expecting to find a text from Nick or Gemma. But the name that was lit up on his screen lit a fire in his stomach. Louis.

 **From: Louis Tomlinson  
** **You’re sulking. Can you at least pretend like you don’t hate me for the lads’ sakes?**

Harry sucked in a sharp breath. He let his eyes, practically dagger-like, fall on Louis who was already looking up at him with a small smile on his face. He was asking for a truce, but Harry wasn’t ready to give him one. He’d never be ready.

 **To: Louis Tomlinson  
** **Was it yours or Eleanor’s idea to send me a save the date?**

He looked back up as he hit send. Louis’ eyes darted back down to his phone, his face falling as he read Harry’s response. He eagerly typed out a new message.

 **From: Louis Tomlinson  
** **Mine. I couldn’t not invite you, H. I should’ve called. I wanted to call and tell you about it...but we haven’t exactly spoken in the last couple of years. You’ve done a really good job at avoiding me.**

Harry read the message and immediately typed back a response.

 **To: Louis Tomlinson  
** **I’m not avoiding you. You’re not a part of my life. We can write, record, and tour this album as two members of the same band. But that’s it. We aren’t friends.  We aren’t anything else other than colleagues. I’m not interested in going to your wedding, so save the postage and don’t bother sending me an invitation.**

He hit send and immediately stood up from his spot on the couch. He was done. He’d had enough Louis Tomlinson and One Direction for one day.

“I’ve got to head home,” he announced, looking everywhere except in Louis’ direction. “It was great catching up. We should work out the whole writing situation soon.”

He almost made it to his car. He was almost safe inside the Audi, away from the entire mess he’d left inside of Niall’s, when he heard his name being called.

“Harry, wait,” and of course it was _him._ Of course, Louis was following him, practically running after him.

Harry huffed out loudly. He was usually so careful, so polite. He lived his life in a way that ensured he treated every single person around him with kindness. But he couldn’t give Louis the same consideration. Louis didn’t deserve it. “What do you want?”

Louis visibly winced, as if Harry’s words pierced right through him. “If you change your mind about the whole cuppa idea...if you decide you want to talk...let me know.”

It was so strange to see Louis so timid, so uncertain. It gave Harry a feeling of satisfaction, almost as if he had the upper hand for once. He’d never had the upper hand with Louis in the past, not once. “Wouldn’t hold your breath,” he mumbled as he pulled the driver’s door open, climbed in to the car, and slammed the door shut. He peeled out of the driveway, fully aware of the screech of his tires on the asphalt. He couldn’t get away fast enough.

Harry wasn’t ready for this. He couldn’t stomach being in the same room as Louis. He couldn’t be reminded of all the memories – the good and the bad. He just _couldn’t._ How was he supposed to write an album with the person he’d once loved most in the world? How was he supposed to see Louis on a regular basis and not be reminded of how he’d once loved Louis so profoundly that he would have walked to the edge of the earth and back? How was he supposed to survive this, when losing Louis had almost killed him?

Harry was fucked. He was teetering on the edge of self-control and he knew he was going to fall over it. He knew he had no hope. There was no point in pretending like he was strong enough for this. He could box all he wanted. He could sign up for a million marathons. Louis Tomlinson would still win in the end. He always did.


	3. Into You

_I don't wanna give you all this power_   
_I'm so defenseless when it comes to you_   
_And everybody knows when we're in the same vicinity, I dodge you_

(Into You – Julia Michaels)

**_X Factor Finale (December 2010)_ **

Third place. _Third place._ Harry had been so certain they were going to walk out of the X Factor finale as the winners. He’d been so certain that all of the hype surrounding One Direction – that all of the fans and momentum they’d gained would guarantee them first place. He’d been wrong. _Somehow_ , he’d been so wrong.

“This isn’t the last of One Direction,” Zayn’s words played over and over in Harry’s head as they exited the stage, heading backstage to collect themselves. Harry knew that Matt Cardle and Rebecca Ferguson were amazing. He knew that they deserved to be in the finals. And he could admit that maybe, just maybe they deserved to win first and second place, but that didn’t stop him from feeling like a complete failure.

He’d given this everything he had, and he’d still managed to lose.

“It doesn’t matter,” he heard Liam’s voice from somewhere behind him. He couldn’t even be bothered to turn around and locate Liam. Harry found a wall to sit against, bringing his knees to his chest. “We’re going to be huge either way. We’re _already_ huge.”

“You alright?” It was Louis. Louis who always knew when Harry wasn’t okay. Louis who was currently sliding down the wall to sit right beside him, their shoulders pressed tight together.

Harry shrugged. “Yeah, just...scared?” he wasn’t sure if he’d picked the right word. He _was_ scared, but he was feeling a million things at once, and he wasn’t sure which emotion was in control at the moment.

“What are you scared of, Curly?” Louis asked, voice soft as he moved to wrap an arm around Harry’s shoulders.

Harry turned his head so that he could meet Louis’ ocean blue eyes. In the five months they’d known each other, Louis had become Harry’s rock – his anchor. All he had to do was find Louis in a room and he instantly felt safe. He didn’t feel safe anymore. “That this is all over. That once we leave here, I’ll never see you again. That I lost the competition and you all in the same day.”

Louis’ face fell at Harry’s words. “Hazza,” he breathed as he guided Harry’s head down to rest on his shoulder. “You’re not losing any of this, I promise. We’re going to be ninety-nine years old performing on stage for everyone to see. We’re going to be old, grey, and very much still in love.”

_In love. In love. In love._

Harry was 100% sure that he had to be dreaming. Louis had just told him they’d still be in love when they were old and grey, and well, _love_ wasn’t exactly a word they’d ever shared before. Harry did love Louis – he’d probably loved Louis since that fateful day in the loo when he’d embarrassingly splashed pee on Louis. He’d loved Louis furiously since that first kiss in the hot tub (way before that really), but he’d never thought, not even for a second, that Louis could feel something like that for _him._ He was Harry – _just Harry –_ boys like Louis Tomlinson didn’t fall for boys like Harry Styles. It just didn’t happen.

“How ‘bout you and I get out of the house tonight?” Louis jumped right in, not even giving Harry a chance to say anything back. Not even giving Harry a chance to confess his undying love. “Can we do that?”  
  
Harry smiled brightly. Maybe they hadn’t won the X Factor, but damn, Harry might have won at life. “We can do anything, Lou.”

*

 _Anything_ turned into Harry and Louis driving in Louis’ piece of shit car until well past midnight. They weren’t following any sort of road map; they just drove aimlessly around a pitch-dark London with their hands clasped together over the gear shift. Harry hadn’t known it before, but he was perfectly content going nowhere fast if it meant he’d be next to Louis the entire time, with his iPod plugged into the car radio, pumping out The Fray in a soft melody. _This_ , this was what Harry had dreamt of when he’d dreamt of finding his soulmate.

“What are you doing?” Harry asked quizzically as Louis pulled into an empty carpark, keeping the engine on for the sheer purpose of heat and music.

Louis unbuckled himself so that he could turn and face Harry properly, taking both of Harry’s hands in his own as he met his eyes. “I rushed it earlier today, and I don’t want you to think that I just said it flippantly, like it means nothing. Because, fuck, Haz...it means _everything._ ”

And _oh_. Harry hadn’t forgotten about Louis’ words from earlier – he definitely _hadn’t_ forgotten them – but he’d assumed that Louis hadn’t meant them the way Harry’s brain had understood them, and he’d spent the last several hours forcing himself to believe just that.

“Harry, Hazza,” Louis’ voice caught on the nickname as he lifted Harry’s chin with one finger, forcing Harry to meet his gaze. “Baby...”

Louis was about to tell him that he wasn’t in love with him, Harry _knew that_ , but all he could hang on to was the word ‘baby’. He was Louis’ baby. That had to count for something.

“I’m _so_ in love with you.”

And wait, _what?_ Harry had been expecting to be crushed. He’d been expecting to have Louis walk away, but this? This was much better.

But Harry’s brain just couldn’t wrap around Louis’ words. He’d never expected, not in a million years, to be loved by someone so incredible. He’d never expected to have someone like Louis Tomlinson, God of the Sun (okay, okay, Harry was aware Louis wasn’t _actually_ Ra, the Egyptian God of the Sun – be was pretty fucking close).

“Harry?” Louis’ worried voice shook Harry back down to earth, back to the present.   
  
“Sorry, got lost in my head there for a minute,” Harry mumbled sheepishly, but he refused to break eye contact with Louis’ ocean blues. Everything he needed, everything he’d ever wanted lay behind those beautiful eyes.

Louis chuckled at Harry’s ridiculousness. “I love you,” he repeated, his words slower and more enunciated. Harry knew that Louis knew that Harry loved him (Harry’s thought process might be convoluted and a bit messy, but his feelings for Louis had always been loud and clear).

“God, Lou,” Harry whispered, dipping his head forward so that their noses were brushing. “I love you so much. I love you more than anything.”

**_Present Time – Gucci Cruise 2020 (May 28 th, 2019)_ **

Harry was in his element. He was at the Gucci Cruise 2020 after party, surrounded by fashion and models who supported Gucci’s commitment to fight for inclusivity and freedom of expression. He was due to perform with Stevie Nicks (!!!) in just a couple hours, and he was on cloud fucking nine. He wasn’t even thinking about the contract he’d sent back to Modest Management just two days before he’d left for Rome. He wasn’t even thinking about the fact that once he made it back to London, he’d have to sit in the same room with Louis yet again – he’d have to act like everything between them was _fine._ Harry didn’t have to think about any of that right now, because right now he was fucking _flying._

But then like everything else in his life, a simple ding from his phone reminded him that if he flew too high, he’d crash back down and burn.

**New Message from Louis Tomlinson**

Harry didn’t even bother clicking on the alert. He didn’t want to open the message and read whatever lame attempt at communication Louis tossed his way today. He wouldn’t let Louis fucking Tomlinson ruin a single second of this night, not when there was so much _good_ around him. Louis could wait until Harry made it back to the UK and was forced back to reality. Louis could fucking wait.

*

As time passed and the party kicked into full gear, Harry almost forgot about that damn unread message in his inbox. He was chatting with a male model with pretty blue eyes that almost, _almost_ felt too familiar when he saw a flash of two similar silhouettes from across the room – a female with a long ponytail, and a shorter male with wispy hair that may as well be a time machine right back into 2013.

_What the actual fuck?_

“You alright, mate?” the model asked, almost as if he could read Harry’s inner turmoil – as if he could sense the panic that was currently taking hostage of his entire body.

“Err,” Harry stumbled before he straightened himself out and set a smile on his face. “Just need a refill,” he announced, holding up his still half-full glass before darting away.

He almost made it to the back exit. All he wanted was some fresh air, a breather, a minute to collect his thoughts and remind himself that there was nothing to worry about. _They_ weren’t here. _He_ wasn’t here. There was no way in hell they were here without him knowing about it. He’d seen the guest list. He’d _double checked,_ just like he’d double checked every guest list of every event he’d attended in the past four years. There was just no way.

“Harry,” and no, that wasn’t Louis’ voice calling out his name, it was _her_ – it was Eleanor.

He could do one of two things: he could keep walking and pretend like he didn’t hear her, or he could man up and put a fake smile on his face and suck it the fuck up.

He _wanted_ to make a run for it, but he was so tired of running from them, from _him._

“Harry! I had no idea you were going to be here!” Eleanor was practically yelling as she pulled Harry into a hug. He couldn’t help but look over her shoulder – he couldn’t help but look at _him._ Louis was standing back, his hands deep in his jean pockets, his head ducked down and eyes staring intently at the floor. _Good,_ Harry thought, _be the fucking coward you are._

“It’s so nice to see you!” Eleanor continued as she finally let go and stepped back to stand beside Louis – her fiancé. “It’s been ages.”

 _Ages._ It had been over four years since Harry had seen her, since he’d been forced to sit in the same room as the love of his life and said love’s beard (err, _girlfriend_ ). Harry was _trying_ , trying to remember that Eleanor was so much more than some stunt management drew up. She was it – she was Louis’ everything.

_Fuck Eleanor Calder._

But now was not the time to be petty, not when Eleanor was suddenly distracted by an old friend and she was walking away, leaving Harry and Louis alone. He couldn’t do this.

“Uh, hi,” Louis finally spoke once Eleanor was halfway across the room.

Harry couldn’t help the snort that escaped, or the way his mouth was being pulled into a sneer. “Hi?” he asked incredulously. “What the _fuck_ are you doing here?”

Louis looked up then, finally meeting Harry’s eyes. Harry could see the embarrassment behind his ocean blues; He could see the shame and the guilt, and it felt like they were being boomeranged back to 2012. “I texted you. I tried to warn you.”

Harry’s mind zoned in on that unread text message that was still sitting in his inbox. It didn’t matter whether or not Louis had tried to warn him – it didn’t matter if Louis hadn’t intended to show up suddenly, unannounced. All that mattered was that he was standing there, in the Gucci after party, invading Harry’s _thing._

“What are you doing here?” Harry repeated, trying to erase the disdain from his face. He didn’t want to cause a scene. He didn’t want pictures of this interaction sprawled across the covers of magazines. He couldn’t live through another Tomlinson-Styles feud rumour.

“I texted you.”

Harry huffed in annoyance as he pulled out his phone and flashed the screen to Louis, showing him just how little he cared about the stupid message. “I clearly didn’t read it. Again, what are you doing here?”

Louis sighed as he looked around the room. It was packed, and it definitely wasn’t the kind of place they should hash any of this out. “Can we just...can we maybe just go outside and talk?”

Harry wanted to say no. He wanted to absolutely refuse to go anywhere with Louis, but he also knew that he didn’t really have much of a choice. He could either stand there, in the middle of hundreds of other people and air their dirty laundry for everyone to see, or he could quietly sneak away from the party and yell at Louis the way he wanted to.   
  
The second choice was the only feasible one.

Harry nodded his head silently and followed Louis out of the room, through the back exit and into the quiet and empty back lot. He didn’t say a single word, didn’t dare open his mouth because he knew the second he started he wouldn’t be able to stop. All he wanted to do was grab Louis from the collar of his goddamn jumper and shake him until his brain was a jumbled mess. All he wanted was to scream at him until his lungs and throat ached from the stress.

“Harry...”

Harry spun on his heel to look Louis head on – to _glare_ at Louis head on. He could do this. He could do this. He so _couldn’t_ do this. “Why are you here?” he asked for the millionth time. He was so sick of repeating himself. Why did Louis always make him repeat himself? Couldn’t the man learn to fucking listen for once?

“They found out I was in Italy with El,” Louis started, staring down at the ground like he always did when he was guilty and afraid of Harry’s reaction. God, things hadn’t changed a single bit. “Management...Simon...they found out we were here, and they asked me to show up to the party. They want us to get photographed together as a way to start up talk that the band is back.”

Harry laughed – he couldn’t help it. “And what? You just rolled over and gave them exactly what they wanted?” He screwed his eyes shut, trying to gain an ounce of control over his anger. He failed. “Fuck, Louis! How are we still here? How are we still in the exact same position a million years later? When are you going to stop being Simon’s fucking puppet!”

“Wha...?” Louis tried to question Harry’s words, tried to act like he didn’t understand where all of the anger was coming from. “I had to.”

“Fuck off, Louis. Seriously? You had to?”

Louis finally looked up, finally met Harry’s seething gaze. “I’m sorry, I _am._ I didn’t want to, I really didn’t, but Eleanor found out we got on the list and she really wanted to come. I didn’t know how to change her mind.”

Harry grabbed at the glasses he was wearing, pulling them off his face so he could properly glare at Louis – so that he could show him just how much he hated him. “She still doesn’t know,” he stated simply, like it was a well-known fact, as if it wasn’t the most fucked up thing ever. “You’re marrying her, Louis. How have you _still_ not told her?”

He watched as Louis fumbled, not knowing what to say. But Harry didn’t need an explanation, not really. He knew the story well – he’d lived through it after all. Eleanor had been brought in by Modest in September of 2011, after Larry Stylinson rumours failed to subside (after Louis and Harry had failed to properly stay away from each other). Harry had wanted to hate her right from the start. He’d wanted to despise Louis’ new fake girlfriend, but he couldn’t, not when she was always smiling and so goddamn _nice._

Everything was fine at first. Eleanor tagged along on outings where they knew the paparazzi would show (when they knew the paparazzi had been tipped off about of their location). She attended Niall’s birthday party, which Harry had only really survived because there had been no real contact between Eleanor and Louis. It was like they were just friends, nothing more. But then Louis brought her to Doncaster only a month after the whole stunt had started. He’d brought her up to meet his entire family, and Harry immediately started seeing red. The girl who had been all smiles and kind gestures quickly turned into his worst enemy, and _only_ because she was spending time with _his_ boyfriend. She was being paid to spend time with his boyfriend, but it didn’t matter. It didn’t matter if she was only doing it because she had to pay for school, or because she needed extra cash for clothes. It didn’t matter if she was just doing it to be nice. Harry hated her. He hated her and he hated Modest for doing this to him and Louis.

But most of all? Most of all he hated Louis. Because that November, only two months after Eleanor had been hired to play Louis’ “fake” girlfriend, a fan took a picture of Louis and Eleanor kissing outside of a restaurant and posted it online. Harry could have survived the whole thing if it had been a planned paparazzi shot, but it wasn’t planned at all. It was just Louis and Eleanor out on a date. It was just Louis and Eleanor actually together, and Harry wanted to die.

“Harry?” Louis’ voice seeped into his memories, pulling him back to the present moment – to the dark lot they were standing in – to the anger that was boiling inside his chest. “Look, I’m sorry...”

“No, don’t – just don’t,” Harry sighed as he pinched the bridge of his nose, trying desperately to remain calm. “You HAVE to tell her! You can’t...you can’t marry her without her knowing the truth, Louis. That’s...fuck...that’s _so fucked_.”

Louis hung his head in shame. Harry wanted to take that as something, _something_ that showed that the man standing in front of him resembled the boy he’d fallen in love with, but he couldn’t think about that. He could only find one single shred of similarity between who Louis was now and who he’d been back then – he was still hiding shit from everyone.

“I can’t,” Louis stammered. “I’ll lose her.”

Harry laughed again. He couldn’t do this – he couldn’t stand here and listen to Louis rewind time. He wasn’t prepared to relive the past nine years of their lives. “Tell her, Louis. Tell her _everything_ or I swear to god I will tell her myself.”

Louis’ head snapped up at that, his eyes wide with shock. Louis didn’t know _this_ Harry. He didn’t know vengeful, angry Harry. “You wouldn’t.”

Harry’s eyes narrowed, daring Louis to challenge him. “I’m so sick of you hurting everyone around you and not facing the goddamn consequences. She deserves better.”

 _She deserves better._ Harry didn’t care about Eleanor and what she deserved (although, maybe he did, just a little bit. Maybe finding out that she was still in the dark about everything that had happened made him a bit sympathetic towards her. _Maybe._ ) But it wasn’t just Eleanor who deserved better. _He_ deserved better. He’d deserved better back then, and he deserved better now. Would he ever be out from underneath Louis Tomlinson’s lies? Would he ever be able to live a life where he wasn’t haunted by the guilt and shame Louis had projected onto their relationship?

Would he ever be fucking free?

“Harry...” Louis started, but he quickly closed his mouth once again, as if he’d thought twice about whatever he was about to say and decided it would only fuel the fire even more.

Harry screwed his eyes shut once more, trying to will the anger and hurt away. He needed to get it together. He needed to sort out his head and get back to the party – back to Stevie Nicks and the performance they’d been rehearsing for the past few days. Louis couldn’t ruin everything, not if Harry didn’t let him. He’d taken control of his life back then – he could do it once more.

“I don’t give a fuck about fulfilling whatever promise you made to Simon,” Harry started once he’d collected himself. He’d willed the anger away. Now, he was just a shell, a stoic shadow standing in front of the man he used to know better than he knew himself. “I’m going to go inside and perform with my fucking idol. Go ahead and do whatever you need to do, Louis. Get a picture taken of you and your fiancée enjoying the party. Do whatever the fuck you came here to do and get the fuck out of my life.”

He turned on his heel then, leaving Louis standing there with his mouth hanging slightly open and his hands dug deep into his pockets. Louis had once been the loudest person Harry knew – even when he was standing silently, he screamed energy and confidence – but right now Louis was a ghost. And that’s exactly how Harry needed him to stay.

*

Harry woke up the next morning feeling heavy and as if his head was full. He was definitely hungover, but there was something else in the air, something hanging thickly around him. It wasn’t until he stretched out on his hotel bed, arms almost touching the edge of the bed on either side, that he remembered the surprise guests at last night’s after party.

He hadn’t even been awake for three whole minutes and Louis Tomlinson had already ruined his day.

Harry didn’t bother checking his phone before he sauntered to the bathroom, quickly moving to turn on the shower and fill the small space with as much steam as possible. He needed a deep cleanse – physically, spiritually, emotionally – anyway he could have it. He needed to stand in the shower and let the previous night roll off him with each drop of water.

Harry recalled the events from the previous night as he stood under the steady stream of hot water. Everything had been perfect, everything except for Louis and Eleanor’s sudden appearance – everything except for his argument with Louis. Harry didn’t like the person he was when he was in the same room as Louis – when he was in the same vicinity as Louis. He didn’t like the way he became angry and bitter. He didn’t like how every word that came out of Louis’ mouth made his skin crawl and his blood boil. Harry was _happy –_ he had moved on from all of the bullshit that had happened in the years before the hiatus. He needed to find a way to coexist with Louis without wanting to punch him in the face every second. He needed to find a way to let everything go, once and for all.

Harry got the chance he was looking for when he got out of the shower and finally checked his phone. His newest text message was from only five minutes ago, and it was from the very same person he’d been thinking about since the second he’d woken up.

**From: Louis Tomlinson  
** **I’m really sorry for how everything went down last night. I don’t want to fight with you. I think we should find the time to get together and figure out a way to get along before we have to start working. The lads don’t deserve us being at each other’s throats constantly. Let me know when you have some time, we can meet up and talk. I’m sorry, Harry, I really am.**

Harry held his breath as he read the message, which was much longer and contained more apologies than he’d ever seen Louis write in all of the years he’d known him. A part of Harry ( _most of Harry_ ) wanted to close the message and ignore it or respond with a snarky “no thank you”, but he knew he couldn’t do that. If he wanted to go back to the person he used to be – the person he actually was – he needed to meet Louis halfway. He needed to actually try.

**To: Louis Tomlinson  
** **Come by mine at 4:00 on Saturday?**

It was a short and simple response that took him almost ten minutes to type out and send. He analyzed every word, every single letter. He was ready to give Louis an inch, but if he knew Louis well enough, he’d try to take a mile. Harry had to be careful.

**From: Louis Tomlinson  
** **Are you still in the same spot?**

_Same spot_ , Harry couldn’t help but roll his eyes at those two words. The “same spot” was the home he’d bought in 2012, when Louis and Harry (mostly Louis) had decided they shouldn’t live together anymore. Louis had helped him house hunt. He’d gone to open house after open house with him. He’d met with the real estate agent with Harry and helped him make sure he was getting a good deal on his mortgage rate. He’d stayed at Harry’s side throughout the entire process, until he’d helped Harry move in and then went back to his flat and his girlfriend. Harry had tossed and turned in his new bedroom that entire night as he imaged Louis sleeping like a baby next to Eleanor.  

**To: Louis Tomlinson  
** **Yeah, same spot.**

Harry couldn’t take how cold things were – how much things had changed. He couldn’t help but think of the first time Louis had slept over at his house, just a couple nights after Harry had finished moving in and unpacking. It felt like just yesterday.

**_November 2012_ **

“I don’t like sleeping alone every night,” Harry confessed into the space between him and Louis, which really wasn’t any space at all seeing as they were laying on their sides, pressed together on his king-sized bed. It had been a couple of nights since he’d moved in to the new house – into his first ever home, and Harry wasn’t quite sure if he liked it. He’d loved living with Louis. He’d loved waking up in the same flat, more often than not in the very same bed, as Louis. He’d loved turning on the kettle, popping two pieces of bread into the toaster, and waking Louis up to the smell of his favourite Yorkshire tea and a slice of toast with jam. He’d loved kissing Louis’ forehead gently, moving his lips across his face until he woke up from his slumber. He’d loved every second of living together with Louis up until the day Louis had suggested they not do it anymore.

That had been a punch to his gut.

When Harry had signed the papers and moved into the too big of a home, he’d promised himself things would change. He’d promised himself that he wouldn’t let Louis in this time, that he’d ice Louis out until he finally made a choice – Harry or Eleanor. But that promise had only lasted a few days until he’d given in and allowed Louis to saunter through the door to his home with take away bags in hand and whispers of how much he’d missed Harry. Harry had gone back on his promise to himself too many times to count in the past year. It had been an entire year of Louis dating Eleanor. It had been an entire year of Louis going back and forth, managing to somehow convince Harry that he was only really with Eleanor because of management. Harry had believed it, somehow, he’d been young and naive enough to actually think it was possible for Louis to love him but be with Eleanor at the same time. Harry was certain that if he were to look up the word “oblivious” in the dictionary he’d find a picture of his own face.

Apparently, he wasn’t done learning his lesson, because here he was, against all of his better judgment, in bed with Louis Tomlinson yet again.

“I can’t wait until we’re on tour in a few months,” Louis sighed as he traced Harry’s brow with a light touch. He was always constantly touching Harry when they were alone together, as if he was making up for lost time. “You and me and a small bus bunk for nine months straight. It’s going to be fucking magical.”

Harry wanted to have Louis’ optimism, but he knew better than that by now. He knew there was no way in hell they’d be able to sleep in the same bunk, let alone the same bus every night. It didn’t matter that the other guys knew about them because management would make sure that Harry was on bus one and Louis was on bus two. Management was always making sure they were separated.

“Where’s Eleanor tonight?” and _fuck_ , Harry shouldn’t have asked that. If the way Louis’ face fell at the question was any indication, Harry had just ruined everything by bringing up the one thing he was never supposed to talk about. Eleanor and Louis’ relationship had been the elephant in the room for the past year – if it was mentioned there was sure to be a fight, so the topic was avoided at all costs.

But Harry was done avoiding the inevitable.

“Has she moved into the flat yet?” Harry pressed on, ignoring the fact that Louis’ fingers were no longer touching him – ignoring the way his own heart was breaking at his question.

“Hazza,” Louis sighed as he rolled onto his back and put space between them. “Can we just be together? We finally have a night alone together and you want to fight?”

Harry took a deep breath, running his palms over his face as he tried to will his brain to think about anything other than Eleanor, anything other than the fact that Louis was only in his bed right now because his girlfriend was somewhere else other than the flat Harry used to share with Louis.

“I don’t _want_ to fight, Lou,” Harry said as he exhaled the breath he’d been holding in. “I just...fuck...I can’t help but feel like a second choice here. I can’t help but feel like the only reason you’re here with me right now is because she’s off somewhere else.”

Louis sat up in bed, his back to the headboard and his hands fisting the duvet that was covering their naked bodies. Just five minutes ago everything had been perfect. They’d been wrapped up in one another, breathing heavy in the miniscule distant between them. But now everything felt charged, as if a single pin drop could make everything fall apart. Harry hated it – he hated himself for even mentioning her name. He’d been the one to let Louis back in, he should’ve just let the rest of it go.

“You’re not a second choice, Harry, fuck,” Louis huffed as he stared at the wall on the other side of the room. He couldn’t bring himself to look at Harry, and that hurt more than anything else. “You’re my first choice, always.”

Harry stared up at the ceiling, willing his tears not to escape from their safe place in his ducts. He hated Louis seeing him like this. He hated when he got all vulnerable and needy. Every time he started this fight, he could feel Louis slipping further and further away. “Yeah, alright.” He couldn’t say anything more, he knew if he said what he really wanted to say everything around him would burn down.

“Why do you always do that?” Louis asked incredulously. Harry could feel him staring down at him. All he’d have to do is look slightly to the right and he’d see Louis glaring down at him – but he wouldn’t survive that. He couldn’t. “Why do you have to shut down every time we’re having a conversation?”  
  
“Because we’re not having a conversation!” Harry was finally losing it, finally sitting up fully in the bed, his hands flying around like they always did when his emotions got the better of him. “You’re just telling me that what I’m feeling is wrong! I’m allowed to feel like a second choice to you! YOU decided you were going to start dating Eleanor when you were already dating me! YOU decided you were ashamed of us! YOU decided you didn’t want to live with me anymore, not ME! You have no idea how unwanted that makes me feel! How else am I supposed to feel Louis?”

Harry’s angry words seemed to make it so that they reached Louis’ breaking point much earlier than their previous arguments. Every time it got like this – every time their fights got too big or Louis got too mad – he shut down. While Harry tended to yell and maybe even throw a thing or two, Louis got silent and walked away, inevitably shutting Harry out for days until things seemed to calm down between them. Now, Louis was climbing out of the bed, searching the room for his various articles of clothing and pulling them on one by one, his back to Harry. Harry knew this Louis – he knew him well. He knew he’d won himself the silent treatment for the next week or so.

“You’re just going to walk away then?” Harry asked as Louis pulled on his joggers and made his way to the bedroom door. His voice higher pitched than he’d like it to be. He hated the way his emotions were always so evident.

Louis didn’t say anything in response; he didn’t even bother to turn around and look at Harry before he stormed out of the room, leaving a trail of heavy footsteps in his wake. Harry kept himself together long enough to hear the front door slam as Louis made his escape. It wasn’t until he could hear Louis’ starting his Porsche in the carpark that Harry allowed himself to break, the tears coming down like two waterfalls. It had been a year of this. A year of having Louis only when Louis wanted to be had. Harry didn’t know how to go on like this – he didn’t know how to live when the love of his life was too ashamed to love him back in any way that really counted. Harry could feel all of the strings coming undone. He could feel the way he and Louis’ relationship – their love – was dying. It didn’t matter how much he tried to hang on for dear life, Louis was bound to slip away.


	4. What a Time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did a really quick edit of this, so I'm sorry for any mistakes I missed!
> 
> I'm also sorry for how long it's been since I've posted a chapter. The next chapter is going to be one giant flashback!

_I feel a little nauseous and my hands are shaking  
I guess that means you're close by  
My throat is getting dry and my heart is racing  
I haven't been by your side  
In a minute, but I think about it sometimes_

(What a Time – Julia Michaels ft. Niall Horan)

**_Present Time – London (Early June 2019)_ **

Louis was on his way. _Fuck_. Louis hadn’t stepped foot in Harry’s house since the end – the end of One Direction, the end of _them._ It had been four years – four fucking years – and Harry wasn’t sure how he was going to survive Louis walking past the threshold and into his home. He’d done everything he could to rid the house of anything that reminded him of Louis and what they used to be. The day everything had burst into flames around them, Harry had stomped around the house, pulling linens from cupboards and the extra toothbrush from the bathroom sink. He’d collected every single item that had belonged to Louis or had reminded him of Louis and shoved them into garbage bags. He’d donated what he could and had thrown the rest into the dumpster behind the donation centre. He got rid of it all.

But now he was pacing in front of his front door, waiting impatiently for Louis’ arrival. They’d decided on four o’clock, and if Louis was still half the man he used to be, he’d be at least five minutes late.

Harry just wanted this to be over. _Now._

It was almost a relief when Louis’ car didn’t pull up in the carpark until eight minutes past four. The fact that Louis still seemed to be in the habit of running late made Harry think that maybe, just maybe, there was a hint of the old Louis somewhere inside of him. Maybe he hadn’t changed _that_ much.

Harry took a deep breath as he reached for the door knob. He had promised himself he’d stay calm during whatever it was Louis thought they needed to hash out. He didn’t want to lose it again – he didn’t want to have some sort of screaming match in the middle of his kitchen like they had the last time Louis had ever stepped foot in this house. He had to meet Louis in the middle somehow, if not for his own sanity than for Liam and Niall’s. He just had to keep reminding himself that he wasn’t doing this for Louis – _none_ of this was for Louis. Niall and Liam didn’t deserve to deal with the Louis vs. Harry showdown.   
Harry pulled the door open slowly to reveal Louis standing before him. He was wearing a pair of blue jeans and an Adidas jumper, just like the Louis Harry’s mind managed to conjure every time he dreamed. _Now was not the time._

“Hey,” Louis looked up at Harry through his eyelashes, a small smile stretched across his face. Maybe Louis was dreading this just as much as Harry was, and _maybe_ that was comforting.

It was awkward. Everything about Louis being at his house made Harry’s skin crawl, but he stepped aside and held the door open for him anyways. They both seemed to suck in a deep breath as Louis slowly stepped inside, gingerly placing one foot after another before he stopped right inside the entranceway.

“Okay, so this is weird,” Louis offered as an icebreaker as he ruffled a hand through his hair, something he always used to do when he was nervous.

Harry had to look away. He couldn’t watch Louis’ familiar nervous ticks or the way his every movement felt like a flashback to their past. _Everything_ was so goddamn familiar about the man. There were more fine lines, more tattoos inked across his skin, but Louis was still exactly the same.

Harry wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or not.

“Do you want a cup of tea?” Harry asked as they made their way into the kitchen. He had to purposely ignore the fact that Louis was leading the way – that Louis still knew his way around Harry’s house as if it was his own.

“Yeah, er, that would be great,” Louis responded as he sat down on one of the stools lined along the island. Harry didn’t fail to recognize that he’d chosen the exact same spot he’d always sat at the many countless times he’d sat in the kitchen, where he’d entertain Harry while he cooked them dinner.

Harry could feel Louis’ eyes watching him as he filled the kettle with water and prepared two mugs of tea. A part of him was tempted to force Louis to drink some herbal tea, to pretend as if he didn’t remember exactly how Louis took his favourite Yorkshire drink. But Harry was meeting him in the middle – he was playing nice – and that meant he’d make Louis a Yorkshire tea with a dash of milk. God, Harry would give anything to have all of the little details he still remembered about Louis erased from his brain.

“Thanks,” Louis smiled softly as Harry slid a steaming cup of tea across the island towards him. He couldn’t sit beside him – he wouldn’t sit beside him. He’d stand across from him at the island, stay alert and on his toes just in case this conversation started to go badly. It was bound to go badly.

“Say whatever it is you wanted to say,” Harry said, trying to keep his voice as even and emotion-free as possible.

Louis sighed as he set his mug back down on the island before he moved a hand through his hair again. “We need to be able to get along if we’re going to do this.”

Harry just hummed in response, watching Louis as he took a sip of his tea. The thing was, Harry _wanted_ to “do this”. He wanted One Direction to reunite – he wanted to give that to the fans. But he didn’t want to do _this_ with Louis.

“I know things didn’t end well between us...”

Harry couldn’t keep the chuckle from moving up his throat and escaping past his lips. “That is the understatement of the motherfucking year.”

Louis tilted his head to the side, surveying Harry carefully. “You swear more than I do now.”

Harry shrugged. He only really seemed to swear at Louis, or when he was talking about Louis, or when he was thinking about Louis.

“I’m sorry,” Louis said when it became clear Harry wasn’t going to say anything.

Harry laughed again – he couldn’t help it. This was just too much. “And what exactly are you sorry for, Louis?”

Louis covered his face with his hands, groaning into his palms. That had been a question Harry had asked a million times before, back when Louis had found the need to apologize almost every day without really understanding what he was actually apologizing for.

“Do we have to do this?” Louis sighed when he finally pulled his hands away from his face. “Do we have to turn this into some fucking fight?”  
  
Harry shook his head, forever mindful of the expression that was on his face. He could do this – he could remain stoic and nonchalant. He just had to channel his inner Louis Tomlinson. “No, no. No fighting here. I’m just dying to know what you’re apparently “sorry” for is all.”

“Harry,” Louis sighed again as he sat back in the stool. He was watching Harry closely, searching his face for a crack in his composure. He wouldn’t find any. “I know I made a mess of everything back then, alright? I know I hurt you...”  
  
“Hurt me?!” Harry repeated Louis’ words, his voice rising above the careful level he’d kept it at since Louis had walked through the door. “You didn’t _hurt_ me, Louis. You broke my heart.”

Louis’ face fell at Harry’s words – at Harry’s honesty. He’d never actually said it over the years – he’d never told Louis just how much he’d broken him. It was refreshing for Harry, but by the way Louis was opening and closing his mouth, apparently floundering for words, it had made him rather uncomfortable.

They sat there like that for a few minutes, Louis hiding behind his cup of tea and Harry standing against the island, palms flat on the counter as he stared at Louis, challenging him to do something – _say something._

“Remember when we first came to look at this place?” Louis spoke a few moments later. His eyes were scanning the room, taking in every inch of the large, open-concept kitchen. “You loved it the second we stepped inside.”

And _seriously?_ What was Louis trying to accomplish?

“Remember when we were moving in your bed and it wouldn’t fit through the door?”

Something in Harry snapped as Louis tried to guide him down a path of painful memories. He’d just told Louis he’d broken his heart, why was he suddenly trying to relive moments that made Harry’s heart break even more? “Are we taking some sort of fucked up trip down memory lane or something?”  
  
“What?” Louis’ eyes zoned back in on Harry. They were wide, filled with concern that maybe he’d crossed some sort of line. _He had._ “I was just trying...”  
  
“No, no,” Harry interrupted him. Apparently, he was the king of interrupting today. “Let’s take a trip down memory lane, shall we? You want to remember the time we moved the bed in here? How about we remember why we had to try to fit a king-sized bed through that fucking door in the first place? How about we remember the time you decided to move Eleanor into _our_ flat? Or better yet, how about the time you tweeted that our relationship was the biggest load of bullshit you’d ever heard?”

“Harry,” Louis tried to cut in, tried to stop Harry from the roll he was on. But he couldn’t be stopped, not now that he’d finally started laying it all out on the table.

“How about we remember the time we went home to visit our mums for Christmas, and you told me you wanted to have kids with me one day. And then two days later you were back in London fucking your _girlfriend_ ,” Harry sneered, his hands gripping the edge of the counter so hard that his knuckles were turning white. “Or how about when you broke up with me for the millionth time in our dressing room in Madrid, and I had to go do an entire show pretending like my heart wasn’t just fucking crushed?”

“Okay, enough!” Louis had finally lost it – had finally had enough of Harry’s trip down memory lane. His hands were in his hair again, pulling right at the roots as if he was trying to alleviate some of the pain Harry had projected. “I get it, alright? I’m a fucking piece of shit! Do you think I don’t know that? Do you think I don’t know that I treated you like absolute garbage? I’m _trying_ , Hazza. I’m fucking trying. I’m trying to fix things. I’m trying to help us move on.”

Harry’s heart had stopped beating. He was fairly certain he was either about to have a heart attack or maybe suffer a brain aneurysm. _Something._ Everything Louis had just said had pierced through his chest, but that one word, that five-letter nickname had been the final nick to his aorta. Harry hadn’t heard that name in years, and it hurt. It hurt more than anything else.

Harry had to turn his back to Louis. He spun around so that he was gripping the sink, his head hanging low as he tried to catch his breath – as he tried to gather his thoughts. He didn’t know where they were supposed to go from here. He didn’t know how he was supposed to face Louis again without seeing the five years they’d spent together (however on and off it had been) flash before his eyes. He didn’t know how anything was supposed to be okay ever again.

“Harry,” Louis’ voice was soft, barely a whisper as it worked its way across the island, up Harry’s spine, and into his head. “I don’t want to fight with you anymore.”

Louis sounded broken. He sounded as if all of the fight had been drained from him, as if he really was tired of the constant fighting the two of them had done since reuniting. And really, Harry couldn’t blame him, not really. He was tired too – utterly and completely exhausted from it all. He’d promised himself he’d meet Louis halfway, that he’d _try._ And yet, Harry had picked a fight the second the opportunity had presented itself. He was just doing it to himself at this point.

“I don’t want to fight with you either,” Harry admitted after a few beats of silence passed between them. He finally turned around. And fuck, he should’ve stayed hunched over the sink. He should never have turned around to take in Louis’ broken expression and the way his shoulders were slouched. They were both so fucking broken. “I’ll try to be civil, Louis, I’ll really try. This is too hard. We can’t keep it up or we’re going to kill each other.”

Louis’ lips twitched at that, a smile almost replacing the deep-set frown that was currently taking up residence on his face. “I think if anyone is killing anyone here, my body will be found in your backyard or something. You _really_ hate me.”

Harry allowed himself to laugh at that. He allowed himself to forget about the pain and the heartbreak for a second. “Should we call a truce?”  
  
This time the smile managed to take over the frown – it was hesitant, but it was there, and that was all that really mattered. Louis extended a hand across the island, holding it out for Harry to shake. “Truce.”

Harry returned the smile, taking Louis’ hand in his own and shaking it for all of a millisecond. The touch burned his skin, almost as if Louis’ own skin was made of lava. It was foreign and so familiar, and it set Harry’s brain into a spiral.

Harry and Louis might have called a truce, but Harry knew them better than any other pair on the planet. They’d never been able to simply co-exist. They’d spent the entire five years of One Direction either loving or hating one another. Harry knew, deep down he knew, that they’d pull each other apart piece by piece until neither of them had anything left to give.

~

“So, you two called a truce?” Niall asked from where he was perched on the sofa, guitar in hand and a quizzical look painted on his face.

It had only been a couple of days since Harry and Louis had sat in Harry’s kitchen and hashed out the past. Now, Harry was sitting in Niall’s living room with his writing notebook in his lap. They were _supposed_ to be writing, but Niall had seen a photo of Louis at the Gucci Cruise after party, and he had refused to give up his inquisition until Harry had updated him on everything that had happened in Italy and his kitchen just a couple of days earlier.

“I’ll believe it when I see it,” Niall continued when Harry didn’t respond. He strummed lightly at his guitar, humming a melody so quietly that Harry could barely hear it.

“It’s true,” Harry finally said. “We’re going to be civil or whatever the fuck you’re supposed to be when you’re in a band with your ex-boyfriend.”

Niall set the guitar down beside him, one eyebrow raised in some sort of challenge. “You both do this, you know that?”

“Do what?”  
  
“You act like what the two of you had was something _small,_ something _meaningless._ I know, hell, everyone else knows that yours and Louis’ relationship was more than some fling. I’ve never seen two people love each other more than you and Louis love each other.”

“Loved,” Harry corrected Niall quickly. He couldn’t have people talking about him and Louis in the present tense. He couldn’t survive that.

Niall rolled his eyes. “Fine, _loved,_ whatever. All I’m saying is, you refer to him as your ex-boyfriend when really he’s your fucking soulmate.”

“ _Niall,_ ” Harry’s teeth were clenched, the name coming out in a warning tone. He didn’t want to lose it on his friend, not today, not when they were having their first writing session since the reunion.

“He’s the love of your life, Harry, and you’re his.”

“No,” Harry responded sharply. “He _was_ the love of my life. I was a kid, Niall. We’ve both changed. He’s not anything to me anymore, nothing but my band mate, okay?”

Niall simply nodded his head, not daring to challenge Harry any further. Harry knew that Niall was right, of course he knew that, but that didn’t mean he had to admit it. It didn’t mean that he needed to let Louis and his past strangle him any more than he already had. They’d called a truce. It was time to move on.

After Niall left, Harry was alone with his thoughts yet again. He couldn’t stop thinking about it – he couldn’t stop thinking about the so-called “truce” he and Louis had agreed on. It wasn’t the first time they’d called a truce simply because they didn’t want to ruin the band. They’d done it plenty of times back in the day. They’d put a halt to the fighting just to save face countless times before.

**_February 4 th, 2012 (Harry’s 18thbirthday party)_ **

The last person Harry had expected to walk through the door of his birthday party was Eleanor Calder. And yet, there she was, hand in hand with the _only_ person Harry truly cared about seeing – Louis – _his_ Louis. Only now, he seemed to be sharing his Louis with the likes of some wannabe actress. But it was fake. Everything between Eleanor and Louis was just some stunt management was forcing upon all of them. Harry just had to keep reminding himself of that. It was _all_ fake, right? Even the kiss...that damn kiss the paparazzi had taken a picture of back in November. That was fake too, right? Louis had only kissed Eleanor for the sake of the photo op, right? Harry would keep telling himself that until the day he died, even if he knew (really, _really_ knew) that that date hadn’t even been planned by management. It was all fake. Eleanor and Louis were _fake_.

“Happy birthday, Hazza,” Louis greeted him with some weird handshake/fist bump that felt off and unfamiliar. It was almost as if Louis forgot the way they’d celebrated Harry’s actual birthday just three days before. It was as if Louis forgot the way they’d spent the majority of February 4thholed up in a New York City hotel room, wrapped around each other.

“Happy 18th, Harry,” and _god_ , just the sound of Eleanor’s voice drove him close to insanity.

She moved to hug him quicker than he could pull away. So, there he was – arms wrapped around Eleanor. He couldn’t help but stare at Louis from over her shoulder. Their eyes were locked, and Harry was 99% certain that Louis was looking at him with shame and guilt. What did Louis have to be ashamed of?

It only took seconds for Eleanor to spot Liam and Danielle from across the room, making her run off and leave Harry and Louis alone. There were endless waves of people surrounding them, but Harry would take what he could get.

“I heard I missed the chance to watch you get a lap dance from a stripper,” Louis whispered the words, but they were still soaked in venom.

Harry sighed. He’d had every intention of telling Louis about the dancer Nick had hired. It had been a joke. Nick knew the truth – he knew about Harry and Louis’ _secret_ relationship after all.

“It was just Nick being Nick,” Harry explained.

Louis rolled his eyes. “Grimshaw is a proper twat is what he is.”

“ _Louis_ ,” Harry warned. “Nick was the one who cared enough to throw me a birthday party.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Louis asked incredulously. “We’re trying to lay low. You think management would’ve been okay with me making a big deal out of your birthday? We aren’t even supposed to be within five fucking feet of each other, I doubt they would’ve liked me hosting my boyfriend’s birthday party.”  
  
“First of all,” Harry started. His words were tight, just like his chest. “We were best friends before anything else. Second, are we even _boyfriends_ right now?”

“What the fuck are you talking about?”  
  
Harry simply shrugged. “You’re here with _her_.”  
  
“Because that’s my _job,_ ” Louis countered.

“Oh, fuck off with that bullshit,” Harry nearly spat the words. “You didn’t have to come.”

Louis’ face fell, his eyes eagerly searching Harry’s. “You don’t want me here? It’s your birthday party...”  
  
“I don’t want you here if that means I have to watch you be with _her._ ”

“I’m not here to be with her,” Louis finally said after a few moments of silence passed between them. He reached out slowly, a hand coming to wrap around Harry’s larger one. “I’m here to be with you. I want to be with _you._ ”

Harry couldn’t help but stare at their hands, at the way their fingers were intertwined, at the way his palm seemed to engulf Louis’. So much had changed since they’d met a year and a half ago. It had been so easy back in the day. It had been so easy to stay in their little bubble and ignore the rest of the world. Harry would’ve stayed in that bubble forever if Louis hadn’t been so keen on allowing management to break them out of it. Harry would’ve dropped it all just so he could love Louis the way he wanted.

Harry would still drop it all if it meant holding on to everything for just a bit longer.

“I love you,” it was a mere whisper, but it was everything Harry needed to hear.

Harry squeezed Louis’ hand that he was still holding in his own. It didn’t matter that anyone who looked over could see them. For once Louis didn’t seem to have a single care in the world about getting caught. All Harry could do was wish the paranoia wouldn’t return and blanket his relationship in a constant state of panic.

Harry would drop it all right now if he could just stay in this moment for forever.

“Let’s get out of here,” Harry finally said, his fingers gripping onto Louis’, refusing to ever let go.

“Hazza,” Louis chastised, leaning his head to one side to convey his disapproval. “It’s _your_ birthday party, you can’t just disappear.”

Harry couldn’t help but pout.

“Now now, Haz, we can hold out another couple hours, can’t we? No need to cry.”

 “It’s my party,” Harry tried to keep the smile off his face. He had a habit of laughing at his own jokes before he managed to tell the whole thing. “I can cry if I want to.”

“Oh my god,” Louis sighed heavily, bringing his free palm up to cover his face in mock embarrassment. “You are so fucking lame, Curly.”

“Please just take me home,” he was near begging – he’d probably resort to sinking down to his knees and outright pleading pretty soon if he didn’t get his way. “I just want to be alone with you. I just want to forget about it...forget about her...about all of it.” 

**_Present Time (June 2019)_ **

Harry shook himself from the memory. Harry hadn’t been able to turn the memory reel off since Niall had left hours earlier. He’d give anything he could to go back to that night, back to his eighteenth birthday party where he snuck out early so that he could cuddle up on the sofa he shared with Louis in the flat he shared with Louis. He wished he could go back to that night and tell his younger self not to let his guard down. He wished he could warn his eighteen-year-old self that in only a matter of nine months the supposed love of his life would be with _her_ – _really_ with _her._ He wished he could warn the more naïve version of himself that it didn’t matter how willing he was to drop everything, because Louis would never do the same. Louis gave in that night, had let Harry sneak out of his own party so they could be alone with their love, but it would be one of the last things Louis actually did to save their relationship. Everything had seemed so difficult then, but god did Harry wish he could warn himself about what was about to happen next.

He screwed his eyes shut for a moment, clenching them so tight that when he opened them back up, he could see stars dancing across his ceiling. He was laying on his couch, arms perched behind his head, replaying things he had no business remembering. He knew how dangerous the past was, but he never seemed able to free himself from its grip. He’d spent the better part of the last four years trying to rid his brain from the countless number of memories he had of Louis. Almost every memory

Harry had from ages sixteen to twenty-four involved Louis in some sort of way – erasing five years of his life was damn well impossible. It probably wasn’t even worth the fight.

And Harry was 100% sure – absolutely fucking certain – that the good memories hurt a million times worse than the bad ones. It was easy to remember all of the damage Louis had done. It was even easy to _hate_ Louis. But remembering all of the love they’d shared, all of the times Louis had made Harry feel like he was on top of the world, made Harry’s heart break all over again.

~

Harry took a deep breath as he cut the Audi’s engine. It had been a week since he and Louis had called their truce – a week since he’d seen or talked to Louis altogether. But here he was, sitting in Liam’s carpark, behind a row of vehicles he recognized as his other bandmates’. He was the last one to arrive at their first group writing session, and Harry wasn’t entirely sure if he could gather enough courage to get out of his car and walk into Liam’s house. He lacked all courage when it came to all matters involving Louis Tomlinson.

Harry’s phone buzzed from where it was sitting in the cupholder, shaking him from his thoughts. His mind immediately returned to Louis as he read the notification on the screen.

**From: Louis Tomlinson  
** **Are you going to sit in your car all day or are you coming in?**

And of course, of course Louis was peeping out the window like some sort of creep. Harry had just wanted a few more minutes of peace. All he wanted was to be able to collect himself before he had to endure existing in Louis’ presence.

His phone buzzed again before he even had the chance to respond or think about leaving the car.

**From: Louis Tomlinson  
** **I thought we called a truce? I promise to play nice.**

Harry really needed Louis to lose his number. He had gotten so used to never seeing Louis’ name come up on his phone. He’d gotten so used to the radio silence that had existed between them for so long that now it was a shock to his body every time Louis’ name popped up on the screen.

Harry didn’t bother responding. He just took one last deep breath and pulled himself out of the Audi, stuffed his hands deep into his pockets and trudged towards Liam’s front door. There once was a day he’d just walk right in, but things were different now. The hiatus and Harry’s falling out with Louis had created a divide, and somehow it had left Harry and Liam as mere acquaintances – co-workers. He loved Liam, he always would, and he _knew_ Liam felt the same, but Liam belonged to Louis in the same way that Lou Teasdale belonged to Harry. Breakups always managed to split what was once whole into bits and pieces.

Harry only managed to knock once before th4e door was being pulled open. Where Harry expected to find Liam, stood Louis on the other side of the threshold.

“Errr...hi,” somehow, even after all these years, Harry was still transformed into an incoherent idiot around Louis.

“Hello, Curly,” Louis was just standing there smiling, as if they hadn’t spent the last four years avoiding each other at all costs.

Harry felt like a fish out of water, gurgling for air. “Hi?”

“Finally decided to join us, I see.”

“I was on the phone with Gemma,” Harry wasn’t sure why he lied. Maybe he didn’t want Louis to know about the near breakdown he had in the car. Maybe he wanted Louis to think he was just fine.

“How is she? Is she engaged yet?”

Harry shook his head as he made his way through the door and further into the house, Louis hot on his heels. “No, but I’m sure it’ll happen any day now.”

“I miss her,” Harry didn’t have to look over his shoulder to know Louis was smiling. He used to love the way you could _hear_ Louis’ smile in his voice.

“Can’t say the feeling’s mutual,” Harry couldn’t stop himself from speaking the truth, truce or no truce.

Louis reached a hand out, wrapping his fingers around Harry’s wrist to stop him. “She hates me.”

Harry huffed out a large breath. Louis was asking, he already knew.

“Your mum hates me too,” Louis continued. His fingers were digging into Harry’s wrist, his eyes staring daggers.

Harry sighed, using his free hand to push his hair back from his forehead. He’d never lost the habit, even after cutting it all off. “Let’s not do this right now, alright?”

Louis gripped Harry’s wrist even tighter in response. “I hurt your whole family, didn’t I?”

Harry didn’t want to do this – he _couldn’t_ do this – not in the middle of Liam’s hallway. Not when the others were waiting for them. Not when they were depending on Louis and Harry having their shit together. He should’ve known better. He should have told Louis that Gemma missed him too. Maybe it wasn’t even that far from the truth.

“Harry...” Louis started when it was clear he wasn’t going to get a response.

Harry sighed again. “What do you want me to say, Lou?” the nickname slipped right off his tongue. He didn’t even bother taking it back. “You think my mum and sister were just perfectly fine with how everything went down? I’m sure your family isn’t too fond of me either.”

Louis seemed incapable of looking away, incapable of looking anywhere else other than directly into Harry’s eyes. “My family could never hate you. My mum loved you so much, you know that.”

And _no_ , Harry couldn’t do _this_. He couldn’t stand there and talk about Jay. He could barely even think about Jay without completely losing it. He had many regrets in his life, but Jay was the biggest one. He’d carry that guilt for the rest of his life.

“Tommo? Harry?” a careful, calculated voice interrupted them, causing Louis to drop Harry’s wrist as if it was burning him.

“Payno!” Louis exclaimed in response, moving to clap a hand on Liam’s shoulder before moving past him towards the living room – the writing room.

“You okay?” Liam asked Harry, his eyes filled with concern.

Harry smiled tightly in response, moving to follow Liam’s lead down the hall. He’d forgotten how good Louis was at acting – at pretending like everything was normal when in fact the world was imploding around them. He’d been doing it ever since Harry had met him. It had bothered Harry then – it pissed him off now.

Louis wouldn’t meet his eyes when Harry finally made it to the living room. He was sat on the floor, back up against the sofa and a MacBook in his lap. Writing was Louis’ thing. For as long as Harry had known him, Louis’ real passion had been song writing. It had once been their favourite thing to do together. Once upon a time they had written dozens of sappy love songs about each other. Now, Harry just wrote heart break song after heart break song and sold them to other artists so that Louis would never know they were all about him.

*

“I’ve got a fire for a heart, I’m not scared of the dark  
You’ve never seen it look so easy.  
I got a river for a soul, and baby you’re a boat  
Baby, you’re my only reason.”

Niall sang the words to the song they’d been working on for the last couple of hours. They wanted to write a song that would pay tribute to everyone who had been by their side along the entire One Direction journey. Family, friends, past and present partners – they all deserved a tribute.

“I love it,” Liam stated once they went through the entire song. “I think it would be a perfect first single.”

Harry nodded in agreement. He’d been relatively quiet throughout the writing session, except for when he had something to contribute to the song. He wanted to be able to hit the rewind button like the others had – he wanted to go back to the days when they’d all been the best of friends. But he was having a difficult time getting there, and the conversation he had with Louis earlier only made it more difficult. He needed to get his shit together or else the next year of his life was going to be miserable.

Harry’s phone vibrated, breaking the inner turmoil that was currently torturing his mind. He glanced at the screen, his heart practically stopping as he read the notification.

**From: Niall Horan  
** **Can you drive Louis home ? He’s had a few and I’m going in the opposite direction .**

Harry glanced from his screen to Niall, who was sitting on the sofa across from his own chair. Harry wanted nothing more than to lunge from his seat and choke his so-called friend. He wanted nothing more than to knock some sense into him, especially since Niall was looking back at him with a knowing smile on his face.

Harry’s phone buzzed again.

**From: Niall Horan  
** **H, come on . You call a truce . He’s too afraid to ask himself .**

Harry sighed. He had a few choices. He could let Louis drive himself home and risk a potential accident and DUI charge. He could make Niall go out of his way and drive Louis. Or, Harry could suck it up and drive Louis himself.

“Are you ready to head out?” Harry heard the words leave his mouth as if he was a bystander – as if he was a fly on the wall. He barely recognized his own voice. And by the expression on his face, Louis was just as shocked by Harry’s words.

Louis looked from Niall to Liam until his eyes finally landed on Harry. They were wide with surprise, and Harry wanted nothing more than to take his words back. “Let’s go,” Louis finally said, shutting his MacBook and gathering his things.

Harry tried to ignore the looks on Liam and Niall’s faces as he and Louis said goodbye. There was too much hope in their eyes, and Harry wasn’t about to assume that a simple drive home meant they were friends again. In fact, he couldn’t imagine a day where he’d ever want to be friends with Louis again. He could be civil, he could work with him, but that’s where he drew the line.

“Thanks for doing this,” Louis said as they walked down the carpark towards Harry’s Audi.

Harry shrugged as he pulled the driver’s door open, stealing a glance at Louis as he did the same to the passenger side door. “It’s just a ride, Louis.”

“I know,” Louis replied quickly once they were both inside the car. “But I know you hate me and all, so thank you.”

Harry wanted to yell. He wanted to pound his fists against the steering wheel and scream until his lungs ached and his face turned blue. He didn’t want to talk. He didn’t want to sit there and discuss his hatred for Louis. He just wanted two damn minutes of silence.

But he realized as he was backing out of the drive that he couldn’t stay silent forever. he had no idea where Louis even lived anymore. “Where am I dropping you off?”

“Home,” Louis replied as if it was perfectly obvious.

Harry took his eyes off the rearview mirror to glance at Louis, eyebrow raised. “Which is where?”

Louis was quiet for a while, almost as if he couldn’t remember his own address. “Actually, I think I’ll spend the night at the flat.”

“The flat?”

Two more beats of silence passed before Louis spoke again. “The _flat,_ Harold. _Our flat._ ”

Harry prided himself on being a very good driver, but in that moment, it seemed like he’d forgotten everything he’d ever learned. He hit the brake hard as the words left Louis’ mouth, causing them both to jerk violently in their seats. Half of the car was still in the carpark, the other half in the street, but he didn’t dare move another muscle.

“What are you doing?” Louis asked when it became clear that Harry wasn’t planning on moving the car anytime soon.

Harry couldn’t breathe – he couldn’t think. All he could do was grip the steering wheel with all of his strength until his knuckles turned white.

“Haz?”  
  
“ _No_ ,” Harry finally spoke – finally found the strength to let the words leave his mouth. “Do _not_ call me that. You don’t get to call me that.”

“Sorry...”  
  
Harry finally turned his head, finally met Louis’ eyes. “What do you mean...our flat?”

Louis ducked his head as if he was embarrassed. “The flat we lived in. I know it’s been ages, but do you really forget where it is?”

“I know where it is,” Harry argued. “I just don’t understand why you want me to drop you off there. You sold it. You moved out a month after you replaced me with Eleanor and kicked me out.”

Louis leaned forward, resting his head on the glove box. “Haz...Harry,” he quickly corrected himself, remembering Harry’s demand not to use the nickname. “I never sold it.”

“Wh...” Harry was confused – his head was reeling from this new information. “Why? Why bother keeping it?”

Louis took, a deep breath before he sat back up. “Because I... everything started falling apart so quickly, and I couldn’t lose it too. I kept it... I didn’t even tell her. Fuck, I kept it because I _really_ thought it would be you and me in the end.”

“You ended everything between us, Louis,” Harry’s voice was shaking, but he couldn’t just sit there and listen to Louis’ explanation, not when it was missing the most important fact. “You chose Eleanor. Why the hell would you choose Eleanor but still keep the flat?”

Louis shrugged, too afraid to look at Harry. “I think by the time life settled down, once the hiatus started, it was all I had left of you. How was I supposed to just let it go?”

“I need you to get out of the car.”  
  
“What?”  
  
“Please,” Harry pleaded. “Get Niall to drive you home, take the damn train. Please just get out of my car.”  
  
“Harry,” Louis whispered his name just as gently as he moved his hand to rest on Harry’s forearm. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“Get out of the fucking car, Louis,” Harry begged through clenched teeth. “Get out before I say something I can’t take back.”  
 _  
Before I do something I can’t take back._

“I’ll go, I _will_ ,” Louis promised. “But just let say something first, please.”

Harry sighed as he rested his head on the steering wheel. He just nodded his head, indicating for Louis to say whatever the hell he needed to say.

“I’m sorry,” Louis started, his hand still resting on top of Harry’s arm. “For all of it. For everything. I can’t take back anything that happened, but I really wish I could. I’ve spent the last five years or so wishing I could go back to th4e early days. I wish we could go back to being Hazza and Lou.”

Harry turned his head so he could look up at Louis. Louis’ words washed over him, angering him and putting out the fire all at once. “We stopped being Hazza and Lou the second management hired her,” he whispered between them.

“I let them do it. I let them ruin us.”

It was the first time Harry had ever heard Louis say those words. It was the first time he’d ever heard Louis admit fault. For the past five years, ever since the actual _end_ of them, Harry had blamed himself. He’d been convinced he hadn’t fought hard enough. He’d been so sure he’d been the one to tear them apart. Hearing Louis admit that he was also at fault was both refreshing and crushing.

It was over. It had been over for quite some time. Louis was going to get married to someone who wasn’t Harry, and Harry would be okay.

There was no alternate ending to their story. Louis and Eleanor would live happily ever after and Harry would survive.

“I’m so sorry, Harry,” Louis continued as he removed his hand from Harry’s arm and opened the passenger door. “If there’s any chance for us to be friends again...I’d do whatever it takes.”

Harry didn’t get the chance to say anything before Lou8is was climbing out of the car and making his way back to the house. Harry couldn’t move. He couldn’t do anything except watch Louis retreat. It had been so long since Harry had shed a tear over Louis Tomlinson, but he couldn’t stop the sobs that were currently wrecking their way through his body. It felt like there was a tsunami rolling from his eyes. And even as Louis disappeared through Liam’s front door, Harry couldn’t stop. He cried the entire drive home, wishing he hadn’t asked Louis to leave his car. All he wanted was to have Louis by his side. all he wanted was to be a part of Hazza and Lou again.

 


	5. Way to Break My Heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry for the delay on posting this chapter! Hopefully it was well worth the wait!

_How can I live without love?_

_How can I be what you want?_

_'Cause when the morning comes around_

_You're still gone and I'll say_

_How can I see through the dark?_

_All I can do is wonder where you are_

_Are you happy in someone else's arms?_

_Well, that's the way to break my heart_

 

(Way to Break my Heart - Ed Sheeran ft. Skrillex)

 

**April 2014 (Where We Are Tour)** **  
**

 

One Direction's third worldwide stadium tour was only three weeks away. Harry was torn between excitement and dread. Tour meant another six months away from his friends and family, but it also meant six months of sharing hotel rooms and tour bus beds with Louis. It was easy to be _them_  when they were away on tour. it was easy to steal moments - entire nights - and spend them just the two of them. apart from interviews and when they were on stage, tour was a time when Louis and Harry could just _be._  Tour meant no Eleanor, no sharing Louis, and really, that's all Harry wanted in life.

 

Louis. Always Louis.

 

Maybe that's why Harry had stuck around for so long. He _knew_. He knew that Louis was actually _with_  Eleanor. he knew that she'd become much more than just a prop management used to distract the fans and media from Larry Stylinson rumours. He knew that when Louis went home from rehearsal or the studio, that he was going home to _her_. harry _knew_  that when Louis left him, still breathing hard and reeling from a desperate rendezvous, that Louis was going home to Eleanor. 

 

Worst of all, Harry knew that somehow he had become "the other guy". Somehow he'd become the mistress, even though his relationship with Louis had existed long before Eleanor had shown up. Eleanor knew nothing about Harry and Louis, nothing _real_. it ate Harry alive, kept him up at night. He could hate Eleanor with every fiber of his being, but he was still drowning in guilt. Every time he kissed Louis, _touched_  Louis, he felt guilty. Louis was his, but that didn't seem to matter anymore. 

 

But this tour, the six months on the road would give Harry the chance to have Louis all to himself. Eleanor wouldn't be there with her long, brown hair and feminine frame. Harry had the next six months to show Louis that what they had together was everything. All Harry wanted was to walk away from this tour hand in hand with the love of his life. All Harry wanted was Louis.

 

It was _always_  Louis.

~

 

"Two more weeks and we can do this all we want," Harry's mouth was hot against Louis' ear. They were entangled in Harry's bed - Harry straddling Louis' hips, both of them only in their pants. Harry had been waiting for this all week. 

 

"Hazza," Louis' voice was tight as he placed his hands on Harry's shoulders, pushing him back slightly. Harry didn't seem to notice - he just dove right back in, attaching his lips to Louis' collarbone. "Harry, _stop._ "

 

The edge to Louis' voice stopped Harry right in his tracks. He sat up, still very much straddling Louis' hips, and stared down into Louis' eyes. Usually he could read Louis' thoughts, the emotion behind his eyes, but they were completely unreadable. It was as if Louis had closed shut what was once an open book. 

 

'What is it?" Harry asked slowly, not even wanting to hear the answer.

 

Louis' stoic expression broke as he placed his hands on top of Harry's thighs. He wasn't looking at Harry anymore, his eyes flitting across the room. Harry had seen this look on Louis' face before. In fact, it was the same expression he had every time Eleanor became the topic of conversation. 

 

"Why do you look guilty?" Harry pressed on, not daring to move a muscle. 

 

Louis' eyes were glued to where his thumbs were drawing absent minded circles on Harry's thighs. "Eleanor's coming on tour."

 

Harry felt Louis' words knock the wind out of him. He was sick - nauseous and dizzy. He didn't say a word as he moved off of Louis, falling to the empty space on the bed, his hands immediately moving to cover his face.

 

"But it's just the South American leg," Louis tried to explain quickly, his words rushing out in one giant breath. "And then a few weeks when we're in America. So we'll still have a ton of time..."

 

"I'm such an idiot," Harry interrupted. He was crying - he couldn't help it, really. Louis' words were like a punch to his gut. The tears were only a natural reaction. 

 

"Haz," Louis soothed, reaching over to place a hand on Harry's arm.

 

Harry jerked back quickly as if Louis' hand had burned him. "I can't believe I actually let myself believe I'd get six months alone with you. I'm so fucking stupid."

 

"Harry," Louis tried to interject, but Harry kept going.

 

"I bet it was your idea too, wasn't it?" Harry asked, voice high pitched as he moved his hands so he could glare at Louis. He expected a lie. He knew Louis better than he knew anyone else. He knew what Louis looked like when he lied. 

 

"Yeah, yeah it was."

 

But Harry hadn't expected for Louis to tell the truth. He hadn't expected for him to rip Harry's heart out with four simple words. Louis was supposed to want this just as much as Harry did. Even after _everything_ , after all the years of Harry fighting for Louis' love and attention, Harry really had thought (he had _believed_ ) that he was Louis' first choice. 

 

Apparently, he'd been wrong.

 

"I don't get it," Harry croaked out. "Why? Why would you invite Eleanor? I thought...fuck, I thought..."

 

"They asked me to."

 

Ah, there it was. Louis didn't need to expand on who "they" were. He knew. Louis was Modest's little whipping boy. He'd always do whatever they asked of him. Where Harry was confident and defiant, Louis was insecure and submissive. Of course Modest would want Eleanor by Louis' side during the tour. They'd do whatever it took to keep Harry and Louis apart. 

 

"Do you even want this anymore?" the question had been on Harry's mind for a long time - for months - maybe years. 

 

Louis opened and closed his mouth, clearly trying to say something, _anything._  Harry screwed his eyes shut, not wanting to watch Louis struggle. The answer should've been immediate. Louis should have jumped at the chance to tell Harry that he was _all_  he wanted. 

 

"Maybe you should go," Harry whispered between them, his eyes still tightly shut. 

 

"Obviously I still want this, Harry," Louis sighed, voice resigned. They were both sick of this argument. But as far as Harry was concerned, they'd keep having the same fight over and over until Louis finally made a proper decision.

 

Harry or Eleanor. Eleanor or Harry. Louis just needed to fucking _choose_. 

 

Harry wished he could make the decision for Louis. He wished he was strong enough to be the one to walk away. He wished he was the kind of person who could show Louis that Harry was the right choice - the _only_  choice.

 

More than anything though, Harry just wished he was enough.

 

"Just not as much as I do," Harry finally spoke, his voice barely even a whisper. He was tired - exhausted really. 

 

Louis sighed again as he moved to sit at the edge of the bed, pulling his joggers back on.

 

"So that's it?" Harry found his voice, irritation clear with each syllable. "We're not even going to have a proper conversation about this?"

  
Louis was silent as he pulled his jumper over his head (really, it was one of Harry's that he'd stolen years before). "No, we aren't," Louis responded, looking over his shoulder to meet Harry's gaze. "I can't have a conversation with you if you're just going to sit there and claim that you want this more than I do. You _always_  do that. You always think you love me more than I love you, and it's not true! It's so fucking far from the truth!"

 

Harry couldn't bite back his laughter. He couldn't swallow the giggles that jumped from his throat. "You have a girlfriend, Louis," Harry spoke the words through his uncontrollable (and rather, not funny fit of laughter). "You have another partner, and when you're with her, do you even know where I am?" Harry paused, his laughter finally dying as he stared daggers into his favourite pair of eyes. "I'm here! I'm always here, just waiting for you to want me! How can you possibly think you love me the same way as I love you? It's been _only_  you for the past four years! It's been only you, and you're out there loving her and pretending like I don't even exist."

 

Louis' face fell as he processed Harry's words. Harry knew from experience that he was thirty seconds away from Louis shutting down completely and walking out the door. He knew he was thirty seconds away from being all alone, yet again.

 

"Hazza," and _no_ , that wasn't part of their routine. Louis' voice never broke like that. Louis never rushed over to Harry's side of the bed like he was doing now. Louis never kneeled down in front of him - never desperately gathered Harry's hands in his own. And he definitely never shed a tear. But all of that was happening right now, and Harry's head was spinning.

 

"I love you, Hazza," Louis professed through his steady stream of tears. "I love you _so_  much. And I know...fuck, I know I've been a fucking dick to you. I know I keep fucking up, but I promise you that I'm trying."

 

_Trying_. Harry dwelled on that particular word. He wasn't entirely convinced that Louis was, in fact, trying at all.

 

"I know I'm a coward. But I _am_  trying. I'm trying to be better...for you."

 

"What about her?" Harry couldn't but ask. If everything went according to Louis' supposed plan, it would be Harry and Louis in the end. But what about her? Eleanor didn't even know the truth about Harry and Louis.

 

"I don't know," Louis admitted, ducking his head in shame. "I honestly don't know."

 

"Do you love her?"

 

And no, Harry shouldn't have asked that. He'd wanted to ask since the day Louis and Eleanor became something more than some stunt planned by management, but he'd forced the words deep down inside of him. He knew the answer. He knew Louis would never have done half the things he'd done in the past two years if he didn't love Eleanor. Harry  _knew_  that, but he wasn't sure he'd survive if he heard Louis actually admit it.

 

"Harry..."

 

Harry shook his head quickly - desperately. "Don't. I don't want to hear it. Please."

 

"Should I leave?" Louis was still holding Harry's hands in his own, still looking up at him through tear-soaked lashes. He looked beautiful.

 

Harry was nauseous - sick to his stomach at the realization that the love of his life loved someone else. How were they supposed to win in the end? How did they even stand a chance?

 

"I love you, Lou, probably always will."

 

"Me too, Haz," Louis said through his tears. "Always."

  
Harry pulled his hands of Louis', one at a time. "I think I wanna be alone tonight."

  
"Oh, okay," Louis slowly brought himself back up to his feet, shuffling awkwardly as he looked down at Harry. "Can I call you tomorrow?"

  
Harry tilted his head back, looking up at Louis through his lashes. He forced a small smile. "You can always call me, Lou."

 

~

 

Harry had expected it to be awful, but having Eleanor tag along on the South American leg of the tour was pure torture. It had only been a couple of days since they'd all gotten on a plane and flew to South America - they were only on their second show - getting ready to play in front of nearly thirty-three thousand fans in Lima. They were only on their second show and Harry was already losing his mind. He had no idea how he was going to survive another two weeks. All he wanted was Louis. All he wanted was to hold him, hiss him, make him laugh. But he couldn't be anywhere near his boyfriend, not with _her_  around.

 

Harry had spent months looking forward to tour, but now that it was here, he was just miserable and lonely. Even now, as he was standing on stage with his four best mates during sound check, Harry felt hopelessly and utterly alone.

 

"H, what's going on under that curly mop?" Niall asked, voice booming from across the stage. "That's like the third time you've missed your cue."

 

Harry was off, had been off ever since they'd landed in Bogota three days ago. He'd even gone as far as to forget part of the lyrics to "Happily" (a song _he'd_  written himself) during the Bogota show.

 

Harry needed to get Louis and Eleanor out of his head.

 

"Sorry," he mumbled, signaling for the band to pick up from where they'd left off. But no one made a single sound. 

 

"Are you alright?" Liam pressed, a line of concern forming along his forehead.

 

"M'fine," Harry insisted as he played with the scarf he had wrapped around his head, containing the curly he'd ben growing for the past four years.

 

"Do you wanna take a break?" Liam continued, completely oblivious to Harry's need for him to just _shut the hell up_.

 

"He's fine," Louis chimed in. Harry didn't miss the panic that flashed across Zayn's face as the words left Louis' mouth. Of course Zayn knew everything (it seemed like they all knew everything). But Zayn was Louis' best friend. Harry was certain that Zayn knew about every single fight Louis and Harry ever had. Harry was absolutely certain that Zayn knew _everything_. 

 

"Am I?" Harry shot back, staring daggers at Louis and completely ignoring the way the others kept looking back and forth in a state of panic. "Am I _fine_ , Louis?"

 

In true form Louis Tomlinson form, Louis rolled his eyes at Harry's apparent tantrum. "Go take a break, Harry."

 

"Oh, so now I need a break? Now I'm not fine?" Harry sneered as he took several steps across the stage until he was right in front of Louis. "How the _fuck_  do you know what I need?"

 

Harry expected Louis' eyes to widen at his outburst. He expected Louis to react the way he always reacted when Harry was upset. But his expectations had been wrong. Instead of wrapping his arms around Harry and trying to make everything okay, Louis' entire demeanour changed. He went stiff cold. 

 

"How 'bout you stop acting like a two year old?" Louis said with an icy tone he reserved for those he hated most. "Go take a nap or something and stop taking it out on us."

 

"But it's your fucking fault!" Harry screamed, his voice bouncing off the walls of the arena and echoing all around them. He hated himself for getting to this point; he hated himself for letting Louis break him. 

 

"Harry, H, mate, c'mon," Niall was suddenly by his side, placing a hand on the small of his back and ushering him backstage - far away from everyone else - far away from Louis.

 

They made it to their dressing room before Harry finally broke down the way he really wanted - the way he _needed_. He sank down on the couch, his head falling into his hands and the sobs raking their way through his chest. He felt like he was being ripped open - as if his ribcage was going to crack in half from all the pain. 

 

"Harry," Niall's voice was barely audibly through Harry's sobs. "H, what's going on? What can I do?"

 

"Hazza," Louis was there, kneeling in front of Harry's shaking body, his hands trying to pull Harry's away from his face. "Hazza, I'm here. I'm sorry."

 

"I think you should give him some space," Niall interjected from where he was standing by the door. Harry didn't have to look up to know that Niall's face was currently covered with concern. He could hear it in Niall's voice. 

 

"Ni, can you give us a minute, please?" Louis begged.

 

Niall instantly shook his head. "I'm not going anywhere while he's like that. You need to give him space, Louis. You're obviously the reason he's so upset."

 

"For fuck sakes, Niall," Louis cussed through gritted teeth. "Leave us alone, _now."_

 

"No."

Louis' grip on Harry's wrists tightened, finally giving him the leverage to move them to Harry's side. "Hazza," Louis breathed once they were finally looking at each other. "Hazza, please talk to me. Tell me how I can make everything better. Please."

 

Harry took a deep breath, trying desperately to calm himself down - to stop the tears. "Send her home," he whispered through a hiccup.

 

Louis' body swayed back, almost as if Harry's words had acted like a powerful gust of wind. "Harry, baby, you know I can't do that."

 

Harry felt himself crumble from within. Despite everything that had happened in the past couple years, a part of him had hoped (maybe even expected) Louis to jump at his words. He'd expected Louis to do whatever it took to fix things between them. He should've known - Louis had given up on fixing things a long time ago.

 

"Anything else," Louis started, swallowing hard as if he was fighting off tears of his own. "Ask me to do anything else and I'll do it."

 

"Leave me alone," Harry whimpered. He couldn't take it anymore. He couldn't look at Louis when everything was falling apart. He couldn't listen to Louis' million excuses.

 

"Hazza, baby, _please_ ," Louis begged, his hands moving to hold Harry's damp face. "Don't send me away. Tell me how to fix this."

  
"Mate, he already told you," Niall interrupted, an edge to his voice Harry didn't recognize. "He told you how to fix it and you said no. Now leave."

 

Louis glared at Niall over his shoulder. "You're out of line, mate," Louis warned. "This has nothing to do with you. It's none of your business."

 

Niall shook his head incessantly. "This has _everything_  to do with me. This effects all of us and you damn well know that."

 

"You should go back," Harry squeaked through his tears. "Both of you. I just need a minute alone."

 

Niall and Louis both looked at him with concern. Neither of them wanted to leave Harry's side.

 

"Haz, just, I want to help..." Louis' voice trailed off as Harry's eyes quickly found his - anger and disappointment reflected in his green irises. 

 

"Just _go_ , Louis," Harry begged. "Just fucking leave, _please_."

 

"I don't want to leave you."

  
"Why?" Harry whined. "Why now? You've done nothing but leave me for the past four years. I need you to leave me alone."

 

Louis sighed as he finally let go of his grasp on Harry, slowly standing up and shoving his hands deep into his jogger pockets. "I want to fix this," he whispered as he stared down at the floor. "I want to fix this."

 

"C'mon, Tommo," Niall finally found his voice - finally interjected and steered Louis out of the room. Harry looked up just in time to catch Louis looking back over his shoulder. A powerful sob ripped through Harry's chest - tearing him in two. As Louis and Niall vanished from his sight, Harry felt himself implode. Everything was _so_  broken, and he wasn't sure if there was any way to come back from this. 

 

Louis couldn't fix this because Louis refused to do the only thing Harry needed. Louis would just continue to break him until Harry had nothing left. He was in pieces - bits of him had been chipped away little by little for the past four years. And yet he couldn't get himself to walk away. He'd give Louis everything. He'd give Louis every ounce of his soul until there was nothing left to give.

 

Harry had never felt so helpless in his life. He was helplessly devoted to someone who would never truly be his and his alone. Harry's devotion to Louis was the Titanic, and Harry was going down with the ship.

 

*

 

He somehow pulled it off. Somehow Harry got through the entire show without missing a beat. He was on auto pilot - singing exactly the way he was supposed to - moving exactly the way their choreographer had planned. He knew the fans deserved better. He knew they deserved his usual energetic and goofy self, but he couldn't do it. So instead, he'd set himself on cruise control; he'd gone with the motions, and he'd survived.

 

They were spending one last night in Lima before heading to Santiago, and all Harry wanted was to hole himself up in his hotel room and drown his sorrows with the help of the mini bar. He was a few drinks in - pleasantly tipsy and numb - when there was a knock on his room door. 

 

He had expected Niall to show up *even though he'd done his best to convince him he was just fine). But Niall was relentless when it came to checking on Harry's wellbeing, and it was impossible for Harry to be upset about that.

 

_Except_ , it wasn't Niall standing on the other side of the door. It was _Louis._

 

"Can we talk, please?" Louis' voice broke, cracking with each word as he pleaded for Harry's attention.

 

Harry stood frozen in the doorway - the vodka flowing through his veins inhibiting his ability to react.

 

"Hazza, c'mon, let me in before someone sees me," Louis pressed as he scanned the hallway for watchful eyes.

 

"Right," Harry finally responded with a roll of his eyes. But he moved aside to let Louis into the room nonetheless. "Wouldn't want anyone to see us within ten feet of each other. Just think of the headlines!" he scoffed sarcastically.

 

"Can you just stop with that for five minutes?" Louis bit back. "I need to have an actual conversation with you, and I can't do that if you're saying shit like that."

  
Harry sighed as he shut the door and followed Louis further into the room. "Want a drink?" he asked as he stopped at the mini door, immediately refilling his empty glass with two ice cubes and a greedy amount of vodka.

 

"No, I'm...wait, are you drunk right now?"

  
Harry waved a hand across the cabinet, showing off the empty miniature liquor bottles before him. "Just a tad."

 

Louis sat on the edge of t he bed, rubbing his hands down his face in frustration. Harry couldn't stop the pout that formed on his face. He knew he was the reason Louis was so upset. Normally, Harry would jump to comfort him, but having Louis on his bed was doing a number to his brain. 

 

"I'm torn between apologizing to you for whatever I've done or pushing you down on that bed and doing whatever I want to you," and there it was, more proof that Harry never seemed to have a filter when he was drunk (or a brain for that matter). 

 

"Harry," his name came out in a whine from Louis' lips.

 

Harry took three steps until he was hovering over Louis. He couldn't stop himself as he carded his fingers through Louis' fringe. He was supposed to be angry - he was supposed to be hurt - but all he wanted right now was to be close to Louis.

 

All he ever wanted was Louis.

 

"What do you want?" Harry whispered between them. Their eyes were locked, and Harry almost couldn't breathe from the intensity that seemed to be engulfing them. 

"I wanted to talk," Louis whispered back.

 

"Is that still what you want?" Harry asked, downing his drink and dropping the glass on the bedside table as he crawled into Louis' lap - straddling his legs and wrapping his arms around his neck. He nuzzled his face into the crook of Louis' neck, inhaling the scent of Louis' soap. 

 

Louis shivered as Harry's lips ghosted across his neck. "Harry," Louis tried to sound stern, but when Louis' hands moved to grip Harry's hips, Harry knew there was no real meaning behind Louis' words.

 

"I know she doesn't make you feel the way I do," Harry spoke, mouth right against Louis' ear. They played this game often - Harry liked to show Louis all of the ways he was better than Eleanor. It wasn't something Harry was overly proud of; he usually felt nothing but shame and guilt afterwards. But it was the only leverage Harry seemed to have these days, and desperate times called for desperate measures. 

 

Right?

 

Before either of them really knew what was happening, their clothes were thrown haphazardly around the room. Harry would deal with the same and self-hatred later, but right now he just needed Louis.

 

All he ever needed was Louis.

 

~

 

Harry had been looking forward to seeing parts of the world he'd never seen before, but the entire trip to Santiago was nothing but awkward. They were on a private jet, and while Harry enjoyed the privacy, he dreaded the close contact to Louis and Eleanor. He'd woken up that morning to a horrible hang over and an empty bed. If it hadn't been for the very vivid memories and the condom wrapper on the floor, he'd almost think he'd dreamt the entire thing. But Louis had indeed showed up to his hotel room the night before, and now Harry was stuck on a small plane with everyone else he drowned in his guilt.

 

Harry wanted to be the kind of person who did right by everyone he came across in life. But all he ever did was do things that would tear Eleanor apart. He _wasn't_  a good person anymore, and he couldn't blame himself.

 

And Louis.

 

And maybe the worst part of it all was that Louis wouldn't even look at him. Ever since the group had met in the hotel lobby earlier that morning, Louis had avoided any and all contact with Harry. And _no,_  that wasn't the worst part. The very worst part was the way Louis was being extra touchy (extra lovey) with Eleanor, as if he could wash away his late night indiscretions by holding her hand and kissing her forehead.

 

Harry was going to be sick. And he didn't know if it was from the hangover or from the way Eleanor was currently sat in Louis' lap in the very same way he'd been just nine hours before.

 

"Are you alright?" Niall's voice was suddenly right in his ear. "You look a bit green."

 

Harry groaned. "Hungover."

 

"You sure that's it?" Niall pushed as he sat in the empty seat beside Harry. "Louis' looking a bit green too."

  
"Niall," Harry warned.

 

"Why do you keep doing this to yourself?" Niall ignored Harry's warning - he _always_  ignored Harry's warning.

 

Harry hung his head. He was already drowning in his shame, but now he was barely breathing. "I love him," he barely even whispered.

 

"I know you do," Niall sighed, wrapping an arm around Harry's shoulders. "But he treats you like garbage, H. You deserve so much better than this."

  
"I really don't," Harry shook his head. He deserved nothing, not when he was going around sleeping with someone's boyfriend.

 

To be fair, Louis had been _his_  boyfriend first. 

 

"I can't walk away, Niall. I love him too much." 

 

~

 

Harry and Louis hadn't spoken a single word to each other since their night together in Lima. It had been three days of radio silence. They hadn't even been in the same room since the flight, and yet here they were, back stage before their first show in Santiago. The only thing keeping Harry going was that Eleanor wasn't around for once.

 

Harry was perched on the arm of one of the sofas that was in their dressing room, painfully aware of Louis typing away on his phone from where he was sitting against the wall. Harry tried to focus on anything else - on Liam and Zayn's competitive ping pong game, or Niall's absent minded guitar playing - but his eyes kept landing on Louis. Louis - who wouldn't even look at him. 

 

"I'm gonna go explore a bit," Louis announced suddenly as he lifted himself off the floor and dusted off his jeans. "Harry, come with me." It wasn't even a question, just a simple demand - as if they  hadn't been avoiding each other for the past three days.

 

But of course, Harry was helpless when it came to Louis. He'd probably jump off a fucking bridge if Louis asked him to.

Harry probably (definitely) needed professional help.

 

Seeking professional help wasn't exactly on Harry's "to do" list, but following Louis out of the dressing room was on the very top.

 

"Where are we going?" Harry questioned as he followed Louis down a hallway, his curiosity heightening when Louis opened a random door and pulled Harry into an empty room. 

 

"I need to talk to you," Louis stated as he paced the dimly lit room.

 

"Really?" Harry was torn between feeling annoyed and elated. He'd spent the last three days wishing and praying (even though that wasn't really something he did) that Louis would just _talk_  to him.

 

He moved to touch Louis, to just put a hand on his arm, _anything_ , but Louis instantly flinched and moved away.

 

_That was new._

 

"Lou, what's going on?"

 

Louis pinched the bridge of his nose and let out a long breath. "I need to talk to you," he repeated.

 

"Right..." Harry was scared, the pit of his stomach churning at the sight before him. He was sure Louis was about to tell him someone was dead, or worse, that Eleanor was pregnant.

God, Harry would never survive that.

 

"Harry, Hazza," Louis stuttered as he sat on a sofa that was pushed against the far wall. "Can you sit down? You're making me nervous standing there like that."

  
"I'm making you nervous?" Harry asked incredulously. "You haven't talked to me in three days, and now you're acting like you have horrible news. _You're terrifying me_."

 

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," Louis' voice broke, and Harry's heart cracked open as he watched tears well up in Louis' eyes. A heavy weight sat on Harry's chest - crushing his lungs and suffocating him.

 

"Lou," Harry said slowly, softly. He could feel the panic rising throughout his body. "Lou, what's going on?"

 

Three days of complete silence, and now that Louis was _finally_  talking to him (finally acknowledging him) Harry felt like his world was about to crash around him. Noting felt right. Nothing had felt right in years.

 

Louis shifted on the sofa, creating a few extra inches of space between them. "I'm sorry for the last few days," he said, eyes trained on the floor in front of them. "I wasn't trying to, to like, ignore you or anything."

 

Harry tried to hold back the bubble of laughter that crawled up his throat, but he just couldn't - not when Louis was such a bad liar. "Could've fooled me."

 

Louis winced at Harry's words. He was ever the king of guilt. Louis was quick to feel guilty, but slow when it came to changing his behaviour. "Everything's a mess, Haz."

 

Harry screwed his eyes shut as Louis' broken words flowed through him. Everything _was_  a mess, but that wasn't new. Everything had been a mess for a long, long time.

 

"Everything's a mess," Louis repeated, his voice breaking even more. "And I...I don't know if I can..."

 

Harry felt the room start to spin. It felt like he was on a ride at the fair, stuck in one place as the ride spun him round and round. All it would take was one little movement and Harry was sure he'd spin out of control, never to touch solid ground again. Louis' words, his entire demeanour was shifting the world off of its axis and taking Harry along for the ride.

 

"Harry, Haz, are you even listening to me?" Louis was suddenly _right there_ , hands on Harry's shoulders and shaking him slightly to get his attention.

 

"I don't need to _listen_ ," Harry practically sneered. "I know what you're about to say. I've been waiting for this day for years."

 

Louis' face broke even more, but it seemed like he absolutely refused to shed the tears that were pooled in his eyes. Louis - ever the strong one - always making Harry look like an over emotional mess. 

 

"Hazza…"

Harry shook his head, signalling for Louis to stop. "I've never been enough for you." He'd spent years thinking those words, but finally saying them out loud (finally saying them to Louis) broke down every damn Harry had built up inside of himself. He couldn't stop the tears. He couldn't close the flood gates that once contained every emotion he'd been bottling up inside. 

 

"I've never been enough," Harry sobbed, pulling away from Louis so that he could crumple in on himself at the other end of the sofa. 

 

"That's not true," Louis countered softly, his voice a mere whisper. "You know that's not true."

 

Another sob ripped through Harry's chest. "If I was enough, you wouldn't be doing this." 

 

Louis moved closer, but didn't reach out for Harry, almost as if he was afraid to touch. "It's not a matter of whether or not you're enough, Harry. Everything is so fucked up, and something has to give."

 

_Something has to give_. Harry didn't realize that four simple words could completely destroy his spirit - his very being. Louis had decided something had to give, and for some tragic and gut wrenching reason, he'd decided that "something" was Harry.

 

Harry would give up anything for Louis, and apparently Louis just wanted to give up on Harry.

 

"Say something," Louis practically begged after a few moments of silence passed between them.

 

_Say something?_

 

Harry peeled his hands away from his face, revealing his tear stained face and the tears that were continuously falling. "What do you want me to say?" Harry asked incredulously, his voice high pitched with panic. "You're giving up on me, on _us._  Just like that? Like none of this means anything to you. How can I mean nothing to you, Lou? How can I mean nothing to you when you mean _everything_  to me?"

 

Louis looked like he was on the verge of breaking, but Louis had always been the strong one. So, he remained stoic while Harry felt himself catch fire and burn along with the rest of the world around him. 

 

"You know that's not true, Harry," Louis tried to counter. But it was pointless. Louis could swear on his pack of cigarettes that Harry meant the world to him, but Harry had no reason to believe it. He had no reason to believe anything Louis said anymore. "You were everything to me."

 

Harry  meant to laugh, but it got lost in his sobs and came out as nothing more than a gurgle. 

 

"Harry, I swear..."

  
"No," Harry warned, lifting a hand to stop Louis from continuing. "Don't. Don't lie to me. Not anymore."

  
Harry tried to stand, but he couldn't feel his legs and he ended up on the floor. He felt hopeless - his back against the sofa and his head hanging loosely so that his chin was resting on his chest. He couldn't feel anything except the pain in his chest. He couldn't feel anything except the giant hole Louis had just ripped through his heart.

 

"Please don't do this," Harry could hear his own words - he could hear the desperation in his own voice - but he had no control over the words his tongue was forming. "Please don't leave me."

 

"Harry," Louis said with a sigh, as if he was already exhausted by Harry's pleading. "I have to."

  
"No you don't," Harry urged with a sudden burst of energy. He could save this. He _had_  to save this. "We can fight this. We can fight management and come out. We can be together, Lou."

 

Louis was on his feet in an instant, basically running to the door (basically running away from Harry). Harry sprung to his feet, grabbing at Louis' hand before he could go anywhere (before he could walk away for good).

 

"We love each other, Lou," Harry continued. "That's all that should matter. We can stop with all the secrets and lies. I'll tell the entire world how much I love you, and you can finally end the bullshit with Eleanor."

 

Louis spun around at Harry's words, ripping his hand from Harry's. "I'm not going to _come out_. That would be a lie 'cause I'm not fucking gay. How many times do I have to tell you that? I love Eleanor, okay? I want to be with _Eleanor_. I was trying to be nice...fuck, I was trying to be fucking gentle with you, but you just don't fucking get it, do you? I don't want  _you_. It was fun, but it's over. We're fucking over."

 

Harry's entire world collapsed as the last three words left Louis' mouth. He barely even processed the door slamming as Louis walked out on him. He barely even processed the fact that his body was falling until he was laying in a ball on the floor.

 

We're fucking over.

 

We're fucking over.

 

We're over.

 

_Over_.

 

In a matter of seconds, Louis had managed to destroy the last four years of Harry's life. Louis had been everything, _everything_  to Harry ever since that July day in 2010. Louis been his everything, but Harry had been _nothing_  to Louis. Years of stolen kisses and special moments lay in pieces in Harry's mind, and all he could do was wonder where he'd gone wrong. When had he talked himself into believing he could ever be enough for someone like Louis Tomlinson? Louis was the sun, and Harry was nothing. It had only been a matter of time before Louis figured it all out. It had only been a matter of time before Harry was left to collect the broken pieces of his heart and try to put it back together again.

 

There was only one thing Harry knew: he didn't want to put his heart back together. In that moment, as he lay on the floor of some random room, Harry _knew_. He'd spend the rest of his life broken. He'd spend the rest of his life trying to be enough.

 

He'd never be enough.

 

*

 

**Present Time (June 2019)**

 

Harry woke up with a start, head pounding and heart beating furiously. It had been years since Harry had dreamt of the end, but ever since Louis had reappeared in his life, Harry couldn't stop the memories from seeping into his subconscious.

 

That day in Santiago had been one of the very worst days of Harry's life. He'd laid on that floor for what felt like hours until Niall had found him (Harry was still convinced Louis had sent Niall to him). Niall had held him as he'd cried his system dry. He'd held his hair back as he'd gotten sick - his body rejecting the sorrow that was seeping through his veins. Somehow, unbeknownst to him, Harry had gotten on stage that night. He'd sung his heart out, crying as words he'd written for Louis were sung in front of thousands of people. Harry had no idea how he was going to survive, but somehow he had, and in the past few years he'd rebuilt his life. But there had always been a huge piece missing - Louis.

 

Harry was awake and away from the dream, but he'd never be free from the memories. Louis had destroyed a big part of him back in Santiago, and five years later, Harry was still just a bunch of broken pieces that couldn't be put back together.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	6. What Hurts the Most

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1) I'm sorry for how long it's been. I'm in my last year of uni to be a social worker and I've been trying to balance everything, but sadly something had to give, and I wasn't able to write as much as I wanted to. I am hoping that I will be able to write more often in this upcoming semester, so please keep a look out for a new chapter.
> 
> 2) I'm sorry if this is super poorly edited. I just couldn't wait another second to post. 
> 
> 3) I love you all and thank you for sticking with me <3

Chapter Six: What Hurts the Most

What hurts the most was being so close  
And having so much to say  
And watching you walk away  
And never knowing what could've been  
And not seeing that loving you  
Is what I was trying to do

 (What Hurts the Most – Rascal Flatts)

**_Present Time (June 2019)_ **

It had been two weeks – a long 15 days – since the incident in Harry’s car. It had been 15 days since Louis had admitted to keeping their old flat – 15 days since he’d admitted he’d been desperate to hold onto any piece of Harry he could. Harry hadn’t been able to stop thinking about it – any of it. He’d spent the last several years avoiding that flat (the entire neighbourhood really). He’d take any other route to his destination (no matter how much time it added) to avoid seeing the building he’d once shared with Louis. But in the past 15 days, Harry had driven past his old flat nearly every day. The past was coming back up like bad seafood, and Harry just couldn’t keep it down. He was drowning in it, and there was no life preserver in sight.

The thing was, Harry had always been a masochist. So, instead of keeping Louis at a distance, he’d decided he had no choice but to accept that Louis was once again a part of his life. He’d sit back and accept that he had to work with Louis – that he had to see Louis – but other than that, Harry promised himself he’d keep his masochistic tendencies to a minimum.

Except for _this_. He was sat in the car park of his and Louis’ old flat, waiting for Louis to show up. Harry had drunkenly texted him the night before, requesting that they meet. Harry could’ve picked anywhere else – _should’ve_ picked anywhere else – but for some ungodly reason, this had felt right.

Harry spotted the white Mercedes turn into the carpark. He held his breath as Louis parked right next to him and climbed out of the coupe, stopping right in front of Harry’s car. They stared at each other through the windshield, locking eyes for the first time in 15 days. All of the courage Harry had felt when he woke up that morning vanished. Now that Louis was _right there_ , he wasn’t sure if he could do it.

Harry took a deep breath before he finally climbed out of the car, attempting a brave face as he offered Louis a tentative smile as a greeting.

“Hey,” Louis greeted quietly, almost like he was afraid he was going to scare Harry away. “Haz...er, Harry, sorry.”

“Hi.”

And god, every interaction with Louis was so awkward, almost forced. There had once been a time when Harry could talk to Louis about absolutely everything, but now, just a simple hello was hard for him.

“Do you, uh,” Louis appeared just as uncomfortable, struggling with his words. “Do you wanna go up?”

Harry sighed as he turned to look at the entrance of the building he’d called home many years before. Walking through that door had once made him feel safe, but now it only made him feel vulnerable – _afraid._ He knew the second he stepped into the lift, and then into their old flat, that he’d be sling shot back almost a decade into the past. He was 99% sure he wouldn’t survive it.

“Sure,” he breathed finally, following Louis across the carpark.

Harry held his breath as they approached the front door. He watched as Louis pulled out a familiar set of keys and used a black fob to unlock the main door. It felt like they’d gone back in time, like it was suddenly 2011 all over again and Harry and Louis were coming back to their shared flat after spending the day venturing around London. Harry had lived for those days. He’d loved every second of it. This building, their flat, it had been _his and Louis’._ It had been their safe space. It had been everything.

And now it was just another agonizing memory.

“Harry?” Louis’ voice shook Harry from his reverie. He finally returned to the present, finding Louis holding the front door open, watching Harry with a concerned expression. “Are you coming?”

He nodded his head, unable to find his voice. He’d done this. He’d been the one to suggest that they meet here, that they expose themselves to the past. But now that he was here, now that he was walking towards that familiar lift, Harry couldn’t breathe. These days had been the very best of Harry’s life. He’d lived for every second of them; he’d _loved_ every second of them.

But now? Now Harry was standing in the far corner of the familiar lift, watching as Louis pressed the button for the fourth floor. There’d once been a time when their bodies would find one another the very second the lift doors closed, but that was a _very_ long time ago. Now Harry could do nothing but press himself into the corner and curse the slowness of the ancient lift.

And if Harry had found the lift ride to be torturous, walking down the fourth-floor hallway was pure hell. He hadn’t come back to the flat after he’d moved out. He’d refused to step a single foot inside of it after Louis had replaced him with Eleanor. But here he was, watching Louis’ shaking hand move to unlock the door.

Harry was going to pass out. He was sure of it.

“Um,” Louis’ stutter brought Harry back down to earth. “Are you...? Should I, uh, open it?”

Harry might hate Louis, might truthfully despise him, but in that moment, he felt a surge of gratefulness towards his ex-soulmate. Louis was a lot of things, but right now he was trying his best to be conscious of Harry’s conflicting emotions, and Harry was fucking grateful.

“Yeah,” Harry breathed out after a few seconds of silence. “Yeah, go ahead.”

Harry took a deep breath as Louis turned the key. How was he going to do this? How was he supposed to step into this flat and not immediately drown in the memories? How was he going to survive?

“Uh, so, yeah,” Louis was stumbling again, a complete opposite to the confident Louis he’d met eons ago. “Here we are then.”

Harry stepped over the threshold before he allowed himself to exhale. And _holy fuck._ It was as if he’d stepped into a time warp. It was as if it was November 2012. Everything was the same. _Everything._ It was as if Harry had never left, as if Louis had never replaced Harry’s existence with Eleanor’s. The flat was _theirs_. Louis and Harry’s. And Harry couldn’t fucking breathe.

“Wow.”

Louis didn’t look at him – _wouldn’t_ look at him. He was all stiff body posture and jerky movements. How could he not warn Harry about this? How could he just let him walk right back into their past like it was nothing at all?

“Louis?” Harry pressed, watching as Louis moved towards the kitchen, opened the fridge and pulled out two beers.

“Want one?” he asked without meeting Harry’s eyes.

And there it was – there was a hint of the Louis Harry knew – the Louis who solved all of his problems with a pint. “Louis,” he repeated pointedly.

Louis shrugged, placing the offered beer on the kitchen island as he moved towards the sofa. Apparently, he refused to speak. _Apparently,_ Harry was going to have to do all the work.

Harry sighed. If he _had_ to do this, he may as well put some alcohol into his system. He needed the liquid courage. He grabbed the beer and made his way to the living room, taking a seat on the black ottoman he’d purchased over seven years ago.

“Louis,” he said again, softer this time.

Harry counted to seven before Louis finally stopped peeling the label off his bottle and looked up at him. Seven seconds and they were staring each other down, daring the other to make the first move.

Harry looked around the room – his eyes moving from the bookcase Louis had used to store DVDs, to the coffee table Harry had found antiquing, to the black piano they’d purchased together the day they’d signed for the flat. That piano had signified everything for them, and Harry felt heat start to rise up his neck as his mind betrayed him by playing back the memories.

**_New Year’s Eve (December 31 st, 2011)_ **

“You’re sure you wouldn’t rather be out at some party?” Harry asked Louis for the millionth time. They’d decided on a “quiet” night in, a simple New Year’s celebration that only included the two of them. They could’ve gone to any party they wanted, but Louis had insisted that they stay in. He wanted to be alone with Harry he’d explained, and Harry couldn’t fight with that.

“Harr, love of my life,” Louis said dramatically, moving to the piano bench. He patted the space beside him. “Come have a seat with me, will ya?”

Harry couldn’t wipe the smile off his face. It was nearing midnight and Louis had been like this all day. Constantly demanding attention, and Harry could never deny him an ounce of attention. Louis took up his entire mind – all of his space – constantly.

Louis started moving his fingers along the piano keys the second Harry sat next to him. Louis had taken it upon himself to teach Harry how to play, and somehow, Harry’s awkwardly long fingers were able to produce beautiful sounds. Harry considered it a miracle. But then again, Louis _was_ a miracle.

“You know, Hazza,” Louis started as he played a melody Harry didn’t recognize. “We’ve christened most of this flat, but we haven’t quite given this beauty the attention she deserves.”

It had been well over a year of being with Louis, but somehow Harry’s heart still skipped a beat every time Louis so much as flirted with him. Louis was a charmer, and all of time could pass before them, and Harry would still fall victim to his ways.

“What do you have in mind, Lou?” Harry asked softly as Louis continued to play the melody.

Louis’ smile widened, his eyes twinkling in the way that always seemed to drive Harry just a little bit mad.

Louis’ fingers stopped moving along the keys. He was suddenly straddling the bench, facing Harry entirely, his eyes still sparkling. “Really wouldn’t mind bending you over this thing and tasting every inch of you,” he growled, his mouth basically attached to Harry’s ear.

And well, _fuck._ They’d done basically everything (not _basically_ , actually quite _literally_ ) _,_ but hearing Louis talk about sex always brought Harry to his knees (also quite literally).

“Hazza baby?” Louis was back at it, growling against Harry’s hear. “Let me eat you out against this piano, please and thank you?”

**_Present Time (June 2019)_ **

The memory faded from Harry’s mind slowly and then all at once. Suddenly, he was back, sitting in the same living room, staring at the exact same piano. He couldn’t even really figure out if it was New Year’s Eve 2011 or if it was 2019. All he knew was that Louis was sitting across from him, his head tilted slightly as he watched him carefully.

And god, Harry would never forget that melody Louis played for him all those years ago. He’d never forget how it magically turned into _They Don’t Know About Us_ , or how Louis had written a beautiful masterpiece to illustrate the love they shared. More so, Harry would never forget how management had eaten it up, except for the fact that it was about _them._ He’d never forget how they’d forced their writers to rewrite it, changing the pronouns and little bits and pieces so that it was about a heterosexual relationship and no longer signified anything about _Harry and Louis._

Management had put the first few cracks into their foundation, but Louis had been the one to pull out the jack hammer and finish the job.

And maybe, maybe that wasn’t all true. Harry had spent years blaming himself for their demise. He’d spent years playing over every single fucking word he’d ever said to Louis, trying desperately to figure out where he’d gone wrong.

They’d held the jack hammer together, after all. They could blame Modest all they wanted, but Harry knew deep down that Louis and Harry played a part in their destruction. They started it, and they ended it.

“Harry?”

Harry shook his head, bringing himself back to reality. He needed to find a way to get over it all. He needed to find a way to move on from the past, to stop living in the movie reels that played constantly in his mind. It had all happened so long ago. They’d moved on, well, Louis had moved on. It was time for Harry to as well.

“Sorry, got sort of, uh...” Harry started, but didn’t know how to finish his sentence. How was he supposed to tell the person he’d once thought he’d grow old with that he was stuck in the past – stuck in _their_ past?

“I know,” Louis whispered, ducking his head so Harry couldn’t see the expression on his face. “It happens to me too, you know, when I’m here.”

“What do you mean?”

Louis shrugged. “This flat, it brings up a lot, yeah? Can’t really help but see our entire past when I’m here.”

Harry swallowed hard, the lump in his throat disappearing just enough for him to get a few words out. “Is that why you’ve kept it?”

Louis shrugged again, finally looking up and meeting Harry’s eyes. And fuck, Harry couldn’t miss the little bit of wetness at the corner of Louis’ eyes. _He felt it too._ “Yeah, I think so. Y’know, after everything fell apart and we stopped speaking, I’d come here and just sit at that piano and pretend like everything was okay. Sometimes if I just sat there for long enough, it started to feel like everything was going to be okay.”

“Do you still do that?” Harry’s voice was barely a whisper, barely loud enough to travel the few feet of distance between them. But he couldn’t find his voice. He wasn’t brave, not enough for this.

“When mum died, after the show at the X Factor, I uh, I spent a week here.”

And wait, _what?_

“Everything was fucked up,” Louis continued. “She was gone, and I was falling apart. I couldn’t even be with the girls and Ernie. I couldn’t be around anyone. All I wanted was _you._ ”

“Lou,” Harry tried to interject, tried to say _something_ , not that he had any clue what he would even say.

Louis shook his head, indicating that he wasn’t finished. “You came to the show, and I thought, fuck, I was stupid enough to think that maybe in all of the mess, all of the fucking unfairness... I thought maybe mum brought you back to me. But then we barely even spoke. You just, you...fuck, you avoided the hell outta me _._ ”

Harry couldn’t stop his head from spinning. He couldn’t stop Louis’ words from making their way inside his brain and shaking everything loose. He remembered it like yesterday, Jay’s death. He remembered every second of it all. Every single agonizing detail.

**_London (December 7 th, 2016)_ **

It was late, well past eleven at night, but Harry couldn’t stop writing. It had been like this for _months._ Even during all of the Dunkirk filming, even throughout all of the trips he’d taken and interviews he’d given, Harry couldn’t stop writing. He was hundreds of songs deep, many he’d be very happy if they never saw the light of day, but some that he couldn’t wait to show the world. It had always been a form of therapy, but ever since the “hiatus” had been announced, he couldn’t put his pen down. He’d had so much to say through the One Direction years that he’d never been allowed to say, and now he was free. Free to say whatever he wanted. Free to expose the real _him_ , free to explore music in a way he’d never been allowed to before.

And fuck if it didn’t feel like the best thing in the world.

The album was done, ready for the world to hear, but he wasn’t ready to put it out there just yet. He’d spent months in London, LA, and Jamaica recording and producing. He’d spent months nurturing the ten tracks that had made the final cut. And now he was only a few months away from showing it to the world, and he couldn’t wait. But first, first he had to get more of it out of his system. He had more therapy to do, more songs to write, before he’d feel secure enough to release his debut album.

The world was ready and waiting, but Harry had more growing to do.

The ring of Harry’s phone shook him from his thoughts. He expected it to be Nick, or maybe Jeff or James calling from LA, but the name and number flashing across his screen said otherwise. It was a number he hadn’t seen in over a year. The name hadn’t taken up residence on his screen since said person had called and given him some of the worst news in Harry’s life. The last time Louis Tomlinson called him it was when they were touring their last album. They were in America; Harry hiding in a luxurious hotel room while Louis remained on the bus. They weren’t speaking – hadn’t really been speaking since the breakup in 2014. But Louis called Harry the second he found out he got some random girl (okay, _okay_ , Briana wasn’t just some random girl) pregnant. He’d called Harry and had cried, apologizing over and over again while he asked Harry what he was supposed to do now. Harry had gritted his teeth, had tried not to yell at Louis through the phone. The second the call ended, Harry had collapsed onto the hotel floor, where he stayed and sobbed for hours. That call had solidified everything. There’d be no _second chance._ Harry knew right then that he and Louis would never, _ever_ find their way together again. Louis was going to be a father, and Harry was just no one.

Harry had to physically shake his head from the memories. His phone was still ringing, and Louis’ name was still flashing across his screen. Harry’s mind raced through the list of possible reasons for the call: Louis had gotten another girl pregnant, Louis needed money, Louis was in jail and needed a bail out. But Harry knew, he _knew_ deep down. He’d been to visit Jay; he knew how sick she was.

Harry counted to three before finally pressing the “answer” button on his phone. He didn’t say anything – _couldn’t_ say anything. All he could do was stay silent and allow all of the thoughts in his head take complete control. He was terrified – terrified to hear Louis’ voice, terrified to hear whatever he had to tell him (even though deep down, Harry knew the reason for the call).

“Harry?” Louis’ voice was small, barely even there. Harry could hear how broken he was. “You there?”

Harry took a deep breath. He couldn’t do this. He _couldn’t_. “Yeah, yeah I’m here, Louis.”

“You in London?”

Harry screwed his eyes shut, hoping that if he closed them for long enough, he’d open them back up to find himself in an entirely different universe. A universe where hearing Louis’ voice didn’t break him into a million little pieces. A universe where Jay was still with them.

“Yeah, I’m home,” Harry found the nerve to respond.

“Oh,” Louis said even quieter. “It’s late there, sorry. I shouldn’t have called. I’ll let you sleep...”

“Louis,” Harry said sternly, surprising himself with his strength. “S’fine. I was awake.”

A few moments of silence passed between them. Harry didn’t even dare breathe into the receiver. He didn’t want to interrupt the thick space between them.

“I didn’t know who to call,” Louis finally continued. “I...I, fuck, Lottie just called me. I’m out in LA, I don’t know what to do, Harry. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do.”

Harry could feel his heart breaking, similar to the way he’d felt back backstage before the Santiago show in 2014. Only now, his heart wasn’t breaking because Louis was abandoning him. His heart was breaking because Jay, the woman he’d loved like his own mother was gone. His heart was breaking because he didn’t know how to reach Louis – didn’t know what to do or say to make this even the slightest bit easier. They hadn’t talked, not when Jay had been diagnosed with cancer, not when it became abundantly clear that Louis knew Harry was visiting her as much as possible. They acted like the other didn’t exist, but now Louis was there – right on the other end of the call, and Harry couldn’t find the words he’d practiced a million times over in his mind. He’d thought about it, of course he’d thought about. He’d thought about what he’d say to Louis in this exact moment, but he’d never dreamt that Louis would actually call _him_ – that he’d reach out to _him._

“I’m so sorry, Lou,” Harry finally found his voice, albeit shaky and barely there. They weren’t friends anymore – they weren’t _anything_ anymore. What was he supposed to say to someone who hadn’t existed in his life for almost a year?

“She’s _gone_ ,” Louis finally said the words, the two words Harry already knew to be true. There’d be no other reason for Louis to call him, no other possibility for him to be reaching out after all the months of silence that had passed between them. “Mum, she’s...fuck, Haz, she died.”

“I’m so sorry, Lou,” Harry repeated, completely at a loss for words. Louis was crying on the other end, _sobbing_ , and all Harry wanted to do was reach out and hold him. Only he couldn’t – even if they were in the same city, even if they were in the same goddamn room – Harry couldn’t do that.

Neither of them said anything more. Harry sat there silently, holding the phone tight to his ear as Louis cried on the other end. Harry would do anything to make Louis’ pain go away, but he knew he couldn’t. Louis had Danielle and his family – he didn’t need Harry. Even if Harry was the first one Louis had called, it didn’t change anything. The last thing Louis needed was Harry back in his life, ruining everything the way he had in the past. Harry and Louis weren’t good for each other. Maybe they once had been, but in the last few years they’d only caused each other pain. The last thing Harry wanted, now and for the rest of his life, was to be another source of pain in Louis Tomlinson’s life.

“Can I...?” Harry started to ask, but he didn’t even know _what_ he was trying to ask. He was lost. Lost in what he was supposed to do. Lost in how he was supposed to make any of this easier for Louis. “Do you need anything?”

There was a long pause as Louis’ cries subsided. He sniffled before saying anything. “No, I just...I just wanted you to know. I know you’ve been visiting her, and I thought you’d like to know.”

“Louis, she loved you...”

“Don’t,” Louis’ voice came out sharp and blunt, making it perfectly clear he didn’t need any comforting words from Harry. “Please, don’t. Look, I gotta go. I need to get home.”

“Okay,” Harry whispered, afraid to say the wrong thing. He’d always said the wrong things when it came to Louis. “If you need anything, I’m he...”

“Bye Harry,” Louis cut him off, successfully killing the phone call before Harry could even finish his sentence.

*

**_London (December 10 th, 2016)_ **

“Are you coming tonight?” Lottie asked Harry from across the kitchen island, perched on a stool as he watched Harry absentmindedly toss contents of his refrigerator into a blender.

Harry had been absentmindedly going through life for the past few days, ever since the 5-minute phone called he’d received from Louis. He’d talked to his mum, Gemma, Niall, and now Lottie had shown up at his home unannounced at nine in the morning. He’d sent her his condolences that same day he’d heard from Louis, but he’d never expected _this_ – he’d never expected for her to show up at his house and exist in his space like it was 2012 all over again.

“Harry?” She asked again, reaching out across the island to place her hand on top of his, stopping him from pressing the button on the blender – stopping him from drowning out her question with the noise of ice being crushed by the blades.

He sighed and finally looked up, finally met her eyes. He couldn’t take it. He couldn’t take how much she looked like Jay and Louis. The two people he missed most in the world.

“Are you coming tonight?” she repeated, her eyebrows furrowed in concern.

Lottie _knew_. She’d been old enough when everything had happened to know the truth. She knew how much her brother had hurt Harry, and she also knew how much Harry had loved her mum. All of this made it harder for Harry to hide from her, and he hated it.

“I don’t think it would be a good idea, Lots,” he finally answered.

She rolled her eyes like any Tomlinson would. “That’s a load of shit and you know it,” she snapped. “All the guys are gonna be there, Harry. Are you really gonna be the only one who doesn’t show up?”

“I want to be there!” Harry exclaimed. “For you.”

“But not for him?” she asked, a frown taking over her face.

Harry ran his hand through his cropped hair, wishing now more than ever he had his long curls to still pull out of frustration. “Me being there isn’t going to make it easier for him, you know that. We haven’t talked in basically a year, Lottie. And even then, the only reason we were talking was ‘cause of the band.”

“I know he called you,” she stated simply, an eyebrow raised as if she was daring him to lie to her.

Harry turned his back to Lottie, distracting himself (and hopefully her) by pouring two glasses of water. He took advantage of the pause it gave him – the opportunity it gave him to gather his thoughts.

“He called _you,_ Harry,” Lottie emphasized. “You of all people. You were the first person he wanted to talk to.”

Harry sighed. “He didn’t want to talk to me. He wouldn’t even let me...he wouldn’t let me help. He barely even let me talk.”  
Lottie rolled her eyes again. “The two of you, I swear. You’re both so fucking stubborn. Just come tonight, please, if not for him, for me. _Please._ ”

How was Harry supposed to fight that? How was he supposed to say no to Lottie, to a girl who had basically felt like family once upon a time? Even after the breakup, even after all of the goddamn mess Louis and Harry had created out of their relationship, Lottie had remained a constant in Harry’s life. He couldn’t let her down. He _wouldn’t_.

“Of course, Lottie,” Harry promised, moving around the island and wrapping his arms around the girl’s frame. “I’ll be there. I promise.”

~

Harry couldn’t breathe. He felt like he was being suffocated by his white button up and navy suit jacket. He felt like he was being smothered by the air alone as he sat in the back of the car, riding in silence as the driver drove towards Wembley Stadium. It had been exactly almost a year since the last time he’d stepped foot into the X Factor, exactly almost a year since that last performance with his bandmates. In fact, December 13, 2015 was the last time he’d even _seen_ Louis. He couldn’t do this. He couldn’t do this. He _had_ to do this.

“Thanks, Will,” Harry said to the driver once the car pulled along the back entrance of Wembley. If he was going to do this, he was going to do it out of the public’s ever watchful eye. This was hard enough on Louis and his family, they didn’t need Harry’s appearance to bring back nonsense and rumours about Louis and Harry. It didn’t matter that they’d been instructed to stay far away from each other whenever they were in public as a band since 2012 – the media always came alive when they were in the same room. People loved to make assumptions and ludicrous scenarios about the so called “demise” of Harry and Louis’ friendship. So, Harry would stay out of it all. He’d go in through the back and keep his head low. He’d stay backstage. He’d do whatever he could to ease the Tomlinson’s night. This was for them, for _Jay_.

As soon as Harry made it through security, confirming that his name was indeed on the backstage list (which ultimately confirmed that Louis knew he was going to be there) he felt a rush of emotion. 362 days had passed since the last time he’d seen Louis. How was he supposed to do this? How was he supposed to come face to face with him and not break down? How was he supposed to stand in the same room as him and not completely lose it? He could do this – he’d done it every day in One Direction since Louis had left him – but this was different. Jay was gone, and Harry knew just how effected Louis was going to be. Jay, their biggest supporter, the one who’d asked Harry again and again at her bedside to just give her son another chance, was gone.

“Harry!” and okay, _maybe_ he could do this if he had Lou Teasdale by his side.

Harry and Lou’s friendship had survived it all. It hard survived all of his tantrums he’d thrown as a teenager while she was fussing with his hair. It had survived the countless nights he’d cried on her shoulder over missing his family (and Louis). It had survived the awkward tension that formed in the band once Louis and Harry were no longer a thing. Lou had been by his side through it all, and right now Harry was counting his lucky stars that he would have her by his side throughout this.

“Hey,” he greeted her with a hug, pulling her tightly against him, allowing himself to finally feel the emotions that this night was bringing up for everyone. Lou and Lottie were the closest of them all, and Harry knew just how hard it was for her to watch Lottie go through all of this. The Tomlinson’s, the sweetest of all the families, deserved so much better than the cards they’d been dealt.

“How’re you doing?” she asked softly as she let go of Harry and took a step backwards.

Harry shrugged. “As good as you are, I’m guessing.”

Lou nodded her head, agreeing with the sadness that had been hanging all around them for the past few days. “Lottie was expecting you not to show up.”

“Yeah, well, I couldn’t do that to her,” Harry sighed. “As much as I would’ve liked to.”

Lou slung an arm around his shoulder and started leading them down the hall. “He’s a mess, H,” she began carefully, forewarning him of what he was about to walk into. “He’s already drunk off his arse.”

“Don’t really blame him.”

“No, me neither,” Lou agreed. “He’s been keeping it together around the twins, but I haven’t seen him like this since you two...fuck, sorry.”

“S’fine,” Harry barely got the words out, barely remembered how to speak. Jay was Louis’ entire life. The boys used to all tease Louis for being such a mama’s boy, and now it all just felt so wrong. He should’ve had more time. _They should’ve had more time._

Harry could hear it all before they even made it to the door. He could hear Niall’s Irish accent, the sound of bottles clinging together, Louis’ laughter. All of the sounds rushed against his ear drums, trying to break down his walls with each pang of familiarity and guilt.  

Lou watched him, waiting for Harry to give her the signal that he was ready for her to open the door and bring him face to face with reality. He took a deep breath, holding it as he counted to ten. Ten seconds would be enough to calm his racing heart, right? Ten seconds would be long enough to make Harry be ready, right? _Wrong._

10,9,8,7,6,5,4,3,2,1...

Harry exhaled and finally nodded his head, indicating he was “ready” for Lou to push open the door.

He started counting again, counting how long it took for Louis’ eyes to find his – counting has many seconds passed until Louis realized Harry had entered the room. He made it to 4 before Lottie’s arms were wrapped around him and he was staring over her shoulder at a set of a piercing blue eyes.

It had been 362 days since the last time they’d seen each other, but Louis and Harry’s magnetism was as alive as ever. Four seconds was all they needed to find each other. Four seconds was all it took for Harry’s world to engulf in flames around him. He couldn’t look away. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from Louis’. It had been an eternity since the last time they’d looked at each other like this – ages since they looked at one another as if they were the only two people in the room. It killed him, ripped Harry’s heart open to see Louis again, but all he wanted – all he needed – was to see that he was doing okay.

“Thank you for coming,” Lottie broke the since (and with it, Harry and Louis’ trance). “It means so much.”

Harry pulled away, kissing the top of Lottie’s pink-coloured head. “There’s nowhere else I’d rather be.”

Harry was relieved when Liam moved to hug him next, prolonging the excruciating moment when he’d be face to face with Louis. He tried to take advantage of every second. He _needed_ every second he get – he _needed_ to learn how to breathe again or else he was going to pass out. Louis was only a couple feet away – the closest Harry had been to him 362 days. All Harry had to do was reach out and he’d be touching him, and Harry just couldn’t _breathe._

“Harry,” all of a sudden Louis’ Yorkshire accent was cutting through each decibel of sound that was filling the room. A voice Harry had heard only a couple of days before, a voice that had once been his favourite but now haunted his dreams.

Harry turned around quickly, finding himself standing directly in front of Louis. He couldn’t help the pang of pain that pierced through him as he took in Louis’ appearance. He was thin, and while he’d always been fairly slim, Harry found himself actually worried at the way Louis’ t-shirt hung off him. Harry could picture it – Louis out in LA, chain smoking and drinking heavily as he tried to process the severity of his mum’s illness. Louis’ had always been bad at coping, and once upon a time Harry had done everything in his power to help him, only this time, Harry hadn’t been there for him at all.

_Harry hadn’t been there for Louis at all._

Harry was hit by a tsunami of guilt. He’d visited Jay countless times. He’d been to the Tomlinson family home, where he’d ignored every reminder of Louis while he drank tea with Jay and let her talk about whatever she’d wanted to. Most of the time their conversations landed on Louis – on how she worried about him, how she hoped he’d reconnect with Zayn, but most of all how she hoped Louis and Harry would “work their shit out”. The last time he’d spoken with her, only a couple of weeks ago, she’d been too weak for a long visit. Harry was in and out of the hospital in only fifteen minutes, but it had been long enough for Jay to hold him tight and tell him that no matter what happened with him and Louis, Harry would always be like a son to her. So yes, Harry had felt guilty all along – but that guilt had always been around how little time and effort he’d put into his relationship with Jay after the breakup. But now, Harry finally felt guilty for not being there for Louis. They’d been best friends once, each other’s favourite person in the whole world, and Harry had just left Louis to grieve his mum’s illness all alone.

_Harry hadn’t been there for Louis at all._

Harry was paralyzed, completely frozen by the guilt that was coursing through his veins. Louis was standing right there, right in front of him, and all Harry could think about was how terrible of a person he’d been. He should have been there. He should have been by Louis’ side through it all.

“Thanks for coming, H,” Louis spoke again after several too many beats of silence.

“Of course,” Harry finally found his voice, moving to hug Louis just as Louis stuck out a hand to shake Harry’s. And _no_ , no, god this was all far too awkward. “I’m so sorry, Louis,” he offered his condolences as he shook Louis’ outstretched hand.

Harry couldn’t recall a single time in the seven years he’d known Louis when they’d ever shaken hands. They’d hugged, jumped into each other’s arms, kissed, punched each other in the face even – but they’d _never_ shaken hands.

“Thanks mate,” Louis responded, a giant grin painted across his gaunt face. He was so pale, as if he hadn’t seen the sun in months. Harry missed his sun-kissed Louis. God, he missed him. “There’s ton of beer in the fridge over there,” he offered as he pointed across the room, clearly already finished with whatever sorry excuse of a conversation they were having.

“Yeah, thanks,” Harry said, trying to match the smile on Louis’ face. If Louis wanted to be happy in this moment – fake or not – Harry would let him. “Excited for the show?”  
  
Louis nodded his head. “Yeah, yeah, ‘course!” and god, it was like talking to a complete stranger. Every single word out of their mouths was so incredibly forced. “I, uh, I should probably go chat with Steve a bit before we go on,” he added, his eyes desperately scanning the room for his friend.

Harry simply nodded in response, watching as Louis slinked away into the small crowd of people around them. Harry watched as he disappeared, his own chest rising and falling rapidly. They’d spoken – the first time in person in 362 days – and yet it felt like they hadn’t said anything at all. In fact, they really _hadn’t_ said anything at all. Louis’ mum had just died – something terrible happened – and yet they still couldn’t handle a simple conversation. Harry should have wrapped his arms around Louis. He should have held him tightly and told him just how sorry he was. God, Harry should have held him until he let go and let himself cry. But he hadn’t done any of that. He’d talked about _nothing_ and then had let Louis just walk away.

_Harry hadn’t been there for Louis at all._

~  
He’d barely experienced any of it. The entire pre-show party whipped by Harry like a fast-moving train. He’d stayed in the corner of the room, sipping on his drink as Niall, Liam, Lottie, and Lou took turns keeping him company. He watched Louis from afar, wishing he could be there right by his side. They were supposed to go through this stuff together. They were supposed to get each other through the hard stuff. But then Modest had intervened and the fell apart a single domino piece at a time. They weren’t those people anymore. They weren’t Harry and Louis anymore. Louis didn’t need Harry to get through this.

He stayed for the performance, watching Louis perform solo for the very first time since One Direction. He felt a beam of pride slice through him while his heart tore in two at the same time. Louis was made for the stage, and he deserved every ounce of the confidence and self-breaking. He noticed every single time that Louis’ eyes moved to look up at the ceiling of the stadium. He was looking at _her._ Jay should have been there to watch her son do this. She’d been his biggest supporter, his number one fan, and now Louis was forced to do all of this without her.

_Harry hadn’t been there for Louis at all._

He pulled Lottie aside once the performance was over, leading her to a quiet hallway so that he could talk to her alone.

“I’m going to head out,” he stated simply, staring cowardly at the floor so that he didn’t have to see disappointment flash across his face.

“Come to the after party, Harry,” Lottie responded immediately, almost as if she’d already expected him to pull a disappearing act.

Harry shook his head, standing his ground. He couldn’t do this anymore. He had no right to stand amongst Louis and call himself a friend. He hadn’t been there for him – he hadn’t done a single thing to support him through any of it.

_Harry hadn’t been there for Louis at all._

“He deserves better, Lottie,” he tried to explain. “I haven’t...I haven’t been a good friend to him.”

“So, _try_ ,” Lottie urged, her face twisted with frustration. “Like I don’t get it, Harry. You just have to fucking _try._ ”

Harry shook his head, trying to force her words out of his head. He couldn’t try. He’d tried a million times before and it had never worked. Louis and Harry weren’t meant to be friends – they weren’t even meant to be in each other’s lives. Louis deserved to have _real friends_ around him at a time like this.

_Harry hadn’t been there for Louis at all._

“I love you, Lots. You know that, right?” Harry asked as he forced her into a hug. He couldn’t let her talk him into staying, not when the right thing was to go home and let Louis grieve without having to deal with him.

“I know,” Lottie whispered after several seconds of silence. “I know. I just, I just want him to be okay. And I thought that you could make him be okay. You always made him okay.”

Harry couldn’t stop the tears from finally escaping and rolling down his face. “I’m not that person to him anymore,” admitting it – saying it out loud – was a like a dagger in Harry’s chest. “He’ll be okay, I promise. He just needs time. You’re all going to be okay.”

**_Present Time (June 2019)_ **

Harry shook himself out of his vivid and haunting memories, finding himself back in the flat and Louis still sitting across from him. Harry would give anything to go back in time, to go back to that X Factor performance and stick around. He’d do anything to go back in time and actually be there for Louis during the most difficult time of his life. But Harry didn’t have a time machine. He couldn’t fix this. He couldn’t fix any of it.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean...” Louis started, his voice small as he broke the silence between them. “I didn’t mean to make you feel like shit. I just, I’ve never gotten the chance to talk to you about it, but it hurt, y’know? During that whole pre-show thing, I kept thinking maybe after the performance you’d finally get the guts to talk to me, but you disappeared without even saying goodbye.”

“Lou,” Harry wanted to explain, he needed Louis to know why he’d been such a shit person that day. “I don’t know what to say, but I...”

“You don’t have to explain,” Louis said as he took a drink from his beer. “I get it. I treated you like garbage, I shouldn’t have expected you to be there for me.”

Harry ran a hand through his short curls. He needed to fix this. “I wasn’t there for you, Louis. When your mum got sick, through any of it. Yeah, I was there for your family, but I wasn’t there for _you._ And well, when I saw you that day, I, fuck, I just realized how fucking horrible that was of me, and I couldn’t even look at you. I was sick to my stomach with guilt. I didn’t know how to face you. I didn’t know how to make any of it better.”

Louis was silent for a long time. He just sat back and watched Harry carefully, obviously trying to process Harry’s words. Harry was scared – scared for Louis’ eventual reaction – scared for whatever was about to happen.

“Why bother telling me any of this now?” Louis finally asked.

“Because I want to make it better now.”

Louis’ eyes shot open as he processed Harry’s words. It was clear by the way he was searching Harry’s face that he’d never expected to hear those words leave Harry’s mouth. But there they were, hanging between them like a big revealed secret.

“You do?”

Harry nodded his head. It was now or never. “A lot of shit has happened the last nine years,” he started. “We’ve both done some really horrible shit to each other. But I...I uh, I’d like to get past it, if you would? I’d like to try to be...friends?”

Louis’ mouth hung open as he stared at Harry blankly. Typically, Harry would have laughed at the expression on Louis’ face, but he wasn’t done yet. There was still _so much more._

“I think, well...I think in order to really like...” Harry cursed himself for his stumbling. For once he’d just like to be able to express himself verbally without tripping all over his feet. “Fuck, I’m just going to spit it all out, is that okay?”  
  
Louis simply nodded his head, clearly also unable to verbalize his emotions.

“I uh, I wrote a song about you,” Harry finally admitted, the words falling from his mouth ungracefully. “I wrote a song about you a couple years back, and I’d really like to play it for you? Because like, well...I think it would be great for the album, but I wanted you to be okay with it. I wanted you to...hear the way I wrote it for you.”

And god, this was probably crossing the line a million different ways, but he didn’t care. He needed Louis to hear his song. He needed Louis hear the words he’d written for him if they were ever going to be friends again. There were so many words Harry had left unsaid over the years, and this song – this song said them all.

“Play it, Hazza, please,” Louis whispered, his eyes still wide and watching Harry with sheer wonderment.

“Okay,” Harry mumbled back, nervousness taking over his entire being. But somehow, because of some miraculous development of willpower, he found himself walking towards the piano. He ran his hand along the black surface until his fingers will tickling against the keys as he sat down at the bench. _He could do this. He could do this. He could do this._

He didn’t introduce it. He didn’t bother telling Louis what it was called or just exactly it was about. He just started playing the melody, letting his fingers dance along the keys and take him to a place of peace and serenity. Music was the only way he could communicate. Music had always been the only way he could fully express his emotions.

Harry closed his eyes as he opened his lips to sing the first few words of the song, the lyrics leaving his mouth and flying straight to their rightful home – Louis.

“If I could fly, I’d be coming right back home to you.”


End file.
